GIFT  OF 


^vu^^wtxn 


THE  SONG  AT  MID-NIGHT 


THE   SONG 
AT  MID-NIGHT 


POEMS    BY 


MARY  M.  ADAMS 

Author  of  "  The  Choir  Visible," 
"  Sonnets  and  Songs,"  etc. 


Boston:    Richard  G.   Badger 

The  Gorham  Press 
1903 


COPYRIGHT    1903    BY    RICHARD    G.    BADGER 


All  Rights  Reserved 


Printed  at 

The  Gorham  Press 


•••         •  V    1 

.•:<::•:";. 

•  •    •  *•*      • 


In  Memoriam 


LOVE,  if  my  least  song  reflected  thee 
It  were  worth  while  to  sing;  or  if,  when  done. 
Thine  eyes,  more  welcome  than  the  sun, 
Could  look  upon  it  and  bring  back  to  me 
One  moment  of  the  old  time  ecstasy 

I  knew,  when  thy  approving  smile  was  won, 
Oh  how  my  spirit  must  to  gladness  run, 
My  heart  hear  once  again  life's  melody! 

Ah  Grief  be  kind!  Bring  thou  to  me  one  gift 

That  shall  so  lessen  thine  own  pain,  it  may 

My  soul,  and  all  it  strives  to  do,  uplift 
To  clearer  vision  of  his  perfect  Day; 

Then  lofty  purpose,  high  and  holy  aim, 

With  something  of  himself,  my  lines  may  claim. 


Contents 

Odes 

The  Choir  Visible  I? 

Ode  to  Poetry  20 

Lincoln  at  Gettysburg  jS 

The  Violet  42 

A  Song  of  Springtime  45 

Commencement  Ode  4® 

Hymn  to  Wisdom       -  55 

Invocatory  Ode  57 

Wedding  Hymn  59 

The  Message  of  the  Dead  61 

Salutamus  66 

Lyrics 

Redeeming  Love  69 

Prayer  7° 

Trust  71 

Communion  72 

Worthy  Thy  Gospel  73 

The  Scholar  s  Strength  74 

Cobble  and  Crystal  74 

Where  Poppies  Grow  75 

Hymn  for  Forefather  s  Day  / 76 


Dedication  Hymn  77 

Easter  Hymn  78 

Thanksgiving  7<? 

Light  at  Eventide  81 

Communion  with  Christ  81 

Love  and  Work  82* 

The  Christmas  Gift  82 

Mizpah  Sj 

Scars  Sj 

There  is  a  Star  84 
Funeral  Hymn  for  a  Distinguished  Citizen   8$ 

Gethsemane  85 

The  Bird  in  the  Belfry  86 

Serenity  86 

The  Bard's  Epitaph  87 

Russia  88 

Dead  Love  89 

Earth's  Requital  8<) 

Cradle  Song  90 

Songs  Without  Words  91 

Labor  s  Gift  91 
Written  in  a  Copy  of  the  Rubaiyat      -         92 

My  Lost  Lyric  92 

Mid-  Winter  Winds  93 

The  New  Tear  93 

Madison  at  Sunset  94. 

Beauty  in  Nature     -  94 

The  Color  Line  96 


Sonnets 

Man  and  Nature  99 

Cecil  Rhodes  IO° 

Dawn  I01 

To  the  Old  Year  IO2 

Easter  IO3 

Winter  IO4 

To  Cynthia  IO5 

The  Message  of  the  Rose  105 

Evening  on  Lake  Monona  IO^> 

Mount  Desert  IO^ 

Dante  IO7 

The  Birthday  of  Burns  107 

Beside  a  Poet's  Grave  i°8 

Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  108 

Wordsworth  IO9 

Keats           -                           -  I09 

Washington  IXO 
Lincoln 

Lucius  Fair  child 
Horace  Howard  Furness 
One  Whose  'Price  is  Above  Rubies'     -       112 

A  Human  Hand  II2 

To  the  Morning  Glory  IT3 

In  Absence  IZ3 

Silence  XI4 
To  a  Mother             - 


To  a  Friend  -              -       775 
To  the  Author  of  "Songs  of  Day  and 

Night"  -                    775 

To  a  Beautiful  Child  116 

The  Promise  -                     116 

To  the  teacher  on  His  Birthday  -       777 

The  Educator            -  -                      777 

Baccalaureate  Sunday  -                      118 

Emperor  and  Martyr  118 

Washington's  Birthday  119 

The  Artist  119 

A  Golden  Wedding  120 

Love's  Youth  120 

Love's  Power  121 

Where  Love  is  there  is  Harmony  121 

"To  the  Madonna  122 

Forgiveness  123 

Lincoln  123 

Love' s  Gift  124 

To  Shakespeare's  Mother  124 

Antigone  125 

Cleopatra  125 

Virgilia  Awaiting  Coriolanus  126 

Othello          -  126 

The  Seraph's  Song  127 

Hamlet  127 

Brutus  Before  Lucius  128 

Falstaff         -  -                      128 


THE  SONG  AT 

HP  HE  solemn  hush  of  mid-night, 

Folds  the  whole  world  in  sleep, 
While  I  alone  with  darkness 

A  weary  vigil  keep. 
When  lo!  from  out  the  silence 

A  burst  of  joyous  sound, 
Quickens  my  saddened  senses 

With  melody  profound. 

A  bird  from  his  near  tree-top, 

Unmindful  of  the  gloom, 
Fills  the  still  night  with  music 

Sweet  as  the  sun  at  noon. 
'Tis  for  a  moment  only, 

And  then  the  song  is  o'er, 
But  my  list'ning  soul  had  whispered. 

A  prayer  undreamed  before. 

I  caught,  O  happy  warbler, 

The  secret  of  the  lay 
That  sings  itself  in  darkness, 

Clear  as  at  bright  mid-day; 
1  learned  in  that  brief  moment, 

That  song  has  truer  ring 
If  through  the  gloom  of  mid-night 

'T  is  given  the  power  to  sing. 


ODES 


THE  CHOIR  VISIBLE 

choir  invisible  we  praise; 
But  I  would  join  the  choir  I  see, 
Of  noble  souls,  who,  glad  and  free, 
The  living  of  the  world  upraise. 

Who  live  to  foster  all  that's  right, 

To  quicken  all  that's  great  and  high, 
To  hearken  to  each  feeble  cry, 

And  strive  to  make  earth's  darkness  bright. 

Who  feel  the  stir  of  kinship  true 

With  all  who  suffer,  all  who  live; 
And  who  to  all  creation  give 

The  right  to  every  creature  due. 

Who  breathe  a  sympathetic  song, 
And  live  the  love  of  One  of  old 
Who  gathered  sinners  to  His  fold, 

And  taught  that  only  sin  was  wrong. 

Who  stand  wherever  Duty  calls, 

Nor  faint  nor  falter  at  her  voice, 
But  in  her  least  command  rejoice, 

And  feel  her  blessing  ere  it  falls. 

Who  bear  the  burden  of  the  day, 

Yet  know  it  not;  who  ask  not  why 

The  neighbor  standing  idly  by 
Shall  seem  to  hinder  all  the  way. 

Who,  though  themselves  be  judged,  judge  not, 
Nor  see  in  brother's  eye  the  mote; 
But  all  that  is  of  worth  denote, 

That  good  may  be  of  good  begot. 


Who  from  base  evil  good  distil; 

And  so,  transforming  loss  to  gain, 

The  only  life  of  loss  retain, 
Its  single  law  of  life  fulfil. 

Who  never  utter  thought  unkind, 

Nor  speak  the  word  reflecting  blame; 
Who  though  they  know  another's  shame, 

Love's  all-concealing  mantle  find. 

Who  swell  the  harmony  of  life, 

And  lessen  each  discordant  tone, 
With  hearts  responsive  to  the  moan 

Of  those  who  suffer  in  the  strife. 

Who  with  the  largest  bounty  give 

That  which  all  else  in  worth  exceeds, 
And,  giving  self,  inspire  those  deeds 

That  prove  man's  highest  claim  to  live. 

Who,  though  they  know  defeat,  stand  fast, 
Secure  and  strong,  without  alarm, 
Serenely  conscious  that  no  harm 

O'ertakes  the  line  at  anchor  cast. 

Who  know  that  Nature,  as  in  days 
When  He  walked  in  Gethsemane, 
Keeps  still  a  deep-toned  melody, 

To  chant  in  such  a  victor's  praise. 

Who  hate  the  false,  who  love  the  true, 
Who  live  the  truth  at  any  cost; 
Who,  though  the  life  be  counted  lost, 

Know  well  the  touch  that  can  renew. 


18 


O  noble  souls!     Your  glorious  power, 
Doth  gladden  all  my  earthly  way; 
You  change  its  night  to  joyful  day, 

And  gild  the  clouds  that  darkest  lower. 

With  you  is  life  eternal  now, 

No  loss  can  touch  what  you  bestow; 

And  though  the  form  be  mouldering  low, 
The  spirit  can  itself  endow 

With  changeless  form  that  never  dies, 
Nor  yet  returns  unto  its  source; 
But  grows  from  man  to  man,  a  force 

That  lives  by  what  itself  supplies. 

Oh,  may  your  blessing  on  me  fall; 

So  sway  my  mind,  my  heart,  my  soul, 
That  I  unto  the  Perfect  Whole 

May  answer  when  its  music  call. 

Thus  may  I  join  the  choir  I  see; 

Thus  add  to  earth's  immortal  song; 

Its  highest,  noblest  note  prolong, 
Till  life  share  all  its  harmony. 

Then  will  my  Heaven  begin  while  here, 
And  life  reflect  from  whence  it  came; 
And  love,  by  its  recording  flame, 

Make  all  its  own  great  meaning  clear. 


ODE  TO  POETRY 


spake  and  said,  Let  there  be  light; 
With  bridal  blush  East  kissed  the  Morn; 
God  smiled,  beholding  scene  so  bright: 
That  moment  Poetry  was  born. 

II 

O  Smile  of  God,  grant  me  one  ray 

To  weave  into  my  lay! 
All  idle  shall  its  dearest  tribute  be, 
Unless  it  have  inspiring  light  from  thee. 

Come  with  thy  great  majesty, 

With  passion-crowned  tranquillity, 

With  thy  true  sublimity, 

With  thy  perfect  sympathy; 
Give  of  thyself  some  part  to  me, 

While  I  sing  of  thee; 
In  thy  splendor  come,  with  glory  rife, 
And  let  me  taste  the  joy  of  thine  eternal  life! 

If  I  sing  not  in  empyreal  rays, 
Of  what  avail  my  praise? 

And  if  thy  radiance  prove  too  great, 
Oh,  fear  not,  nor  abate 

Thy  gift:  if  with  thee  I  fly, 

I  shall  be  content  to  die, 
For,  sitting  on  Olympus  height,  like  Semele, 

It  will  be  revealed  to  me 

However  dull  the  human  clod, 
If  ruled  by  thee,  it  may  become  a  god. 


20 


Come,  oh,  come  with  thy  celestial  power, 
And  guide  my  vision  for  a  single  hour; 
Yet  if  thou  withhold,  still  must  I  sing, 
And  to  thy  mighty  pinions  cling, 
Trusting  to  catch  some  answering  gleam 
In  the  very  grandeur  of  my  theme. 

Ill 

See,  she  cometh  through  the  eastern  gate, 

With  heart  elate, 
Even  as  on  the  morn 

When  she  was  born; 
The  witchery  of  endless  youth, 
The  radiance  of  unfaltering  truth, 

Shining  on  the  place 
Where  she  has  turned  her  face, 
With  its  freshness  and  its  grace; 
And  where  she  treads,  all  melodies  abound, 
For  it  is  holy  ground. 

Like  the  morning, 
All  beautiful  is  her  adorning; 
By  night,  by  day, 
She  glorifies  the  way; 
On  land  and  sea, 
By  tide  or  lea; 

But  ever  must  her  surest  splendor  be 
In  the  gift  she  brings  to  thee, 
To  thee,  O  nation  and  O  man; 
For  brief  must  be  thy  span, 
If  in  thy  heart  she  have  no  place, 

And  leave  upon  thy  life  no  trace; 
For  where  no  vision  is,  or  seer, 
The  people  perish  and  the  night  is  near. 


21 


IV 

Behold  her  as  she  walks  with  flowers, 
And  through  the  year  a  June  embowers; 

List,  her  step  upon  the  field, 
Where  barren  places  beauty  yield; 
Find  her  in  the  forest  glade, 
Voiceful  by  her  whispers  made; 
Hear  her  in  the  rippling  brook, 

In  its  foliage-covered  nook, 
Fit  spot  for  lovers'  promise-laden  vows, 
Whose  hope  her  touch  with  life  endows. 

Hearken  to  her  laughter  in  the  waves, 

Her  deeper  cadence  in  the  rock-bound  caves; 

See  the  illimitable  loveliness  of  snow 

Whereon  her  footsteps  come  and  go; 

Find  her  in  the  silence,  whose  majestic  speech, 

All  wordless,  will  life's  deepest  wisdom  teach; 

Watch  her  throned  upon  the  breast  of  Night, 

Its  sovereign  her  satellite, 
As  all  the  mighty  hosts  grow  bright 
Voicing  her  joy,  while  the  clouds  she  presses 
And  woos  them  with  her  soft  caresses. 
Brighter  than  the  sunbeam  at  high  noon, 
Fairer  than  the  ray  of  fairest  moon, 

Is  her  kiss  on  each  and  all, 

And  the  glory  she  lets  fall. 

Wherever  Nature  lives, 

She  reigns  and  gives 
Her  song,  her  life,  her  love, 
With  the  joy  that  cometh  from  above; 
And  on  the  impress  of  its  day 
Breathes  the  life  that  fadeth  not  away. 


22 


But  ever  must  the  surest  splendor  be 
In  the  gift  she  brings  to  thee, 

To  thee,  O  nation  and  O  man; 
For  brief  must  be  thy  span, 

If  in  thy  heart  she  have  no  place, 

And  leave  upon  thy  life  no  trace; 

For  where  no  vision  is,  or  seer, 

The  people  perish  and  the  night  is  near. 


As  from  nuptial  kiss  she  came, 

Ever  in  her  name 

Shall  Love  receive  his  dearest  fame. 
Through  her  his  wisdom  is  allied 

To  all  that  life  has  deified; 

Highest,  noblest,  fairest,  best, 

Royally  to  him  addrest; 
Yet  hear  her  say,  'Not  unto  me, 

O  Love,  But  all  to  thee 
Shall  the  praise  and  glory  be; 
I  am  the  Smile,  thou  the  Heart  of  Deity.' 
While  Love  answers,  '  I  am  incomplete 
Until  mine  eyes  thy  radiance  meet. 
Thy  hand  alone  my  crown  prepares, 
Thy  service  all  my  glory  shares. 
I  sometimes  know  the  sight  of  sin; 
With  thee  its  foulness  cannot  enter  in. 
I  see  in  life  the  good,  but  know  the  ill. 
Thou  dost  interpret  unto  me  the  everlasting  will; 

Convey  to  me  that  happiness 
Is  owning  God  and  nothing  less.' 


Listen  now 
Where  souls  respond  to  marriage  vow; 

What  bliss  she  lends, 
No  other  e'er  such  blessing  sends; 
Even  here  she  bids  us  see 
The  hope  of  her  eternity. 
Through  sunshine  and  through  cloud, 

We  hear  her  message  loud; 
That  witness  still  shall  testify 

To  the  life  that  does  not  die. 
In  the  light  of  her  sweet  being, 
Happy  hearts  their  Eden  seeing, 

Find  the  paradise  within, 
Without  the  tempter  and  the  sin. 

With  her  all  desolation 
Finds  an  answering  salvation 

In  trust  that  sees  beyond  the  strife, 

The  glow  of  one  unending  life. 

She  gives  to  faith  its  coronal, 

To  loyal  souls  their  festival. 

And  when  she  leads  across  the  sea, 

To  shining  heights  men  call  paternity, 
With  jewel  she  endows 
Each  new  Madonna's  brows, 

Immortal  radiance  all  its  ray  begetting, 

Immortal  light  forever  in  its  setting. 
Love  has  then  his  holiday, 

And  in  the  winter  keeps  the  heart  of  May. 


24 


O  Smile  of  God,  deign  thou  with  us  to  dwell 

Until  all  love  thy  loftiest  light  compel! 

Give  unto  our  hearts  its  place; 

Leave  upon  our  lives  its  trace; 

For  ever  must  the  surest  splendor  be 

In  the  gift  life  gains  from  thee; 

For  where  no  vision  is  or  seer, 

The  people  perish  and  the  night  is  near. 

VI 

Holier  works  appear; 

Grander  melodies  we  hear! 
With  them  the  hills  of  God  we  climb, 
And  learn  their  harmonies  sublime, 
Uttered  by  those  upon  whose  lips  she  laid 
The  ruddy  kiss  that  cannot  fade; 
Who  looked  within  her  heart  and  saw 
The  secret  of  her  heavenly  law; 

Made  it  their  own, 

Until  upon  their  labor  shone 
'The  light  that  never  was  on  land  or  sea,' 
Revealing  to  the  soul  its  own  immensity. 
How  quickening  is  its  smallest  beam! 
How  nobly  men  have  toiled  to  gain  its  gleam! 
Gaining,  they  have  scaled  eternal  height, 
And  brought  to  earth  the  greatness  of  their  flight 
With  cherubim  and  seraphim  allied, 
Henceforth  the  ills  of  earth  defied, 

Clarifying  all  life's  history, 

Beautifying  all  its  mystery, 


25 


Proving  self  subduing  victory 

Can  banish  ill, 

And  the  world  with  wisdom  fill; 

Gazing  inward,  still  can  find 

The  best  in  Nature's  mind 
And  man's;  can  hear  the  throb  of  heartstrings 
In  the  pulsing  of  the  ages;  on  her  wings 
Speeding  backward,  learn  of  her  to  free, 
Yea,  exalt  each  sense,  and  be 

Exponent  of  life's  destiny. 
Supplying  unto  souls  that  thirst 
The  wine  of  God;  showing  raiment  that  shall  first 
Enfold  His  flesh.     Leading  men  to  see 

Himself  in  our  humanity. 

O  Man  Eternal, 
Owning  now  her  gift  supernal, 
Rise,  and  do  not  doubt, 

But  of  thyself  give  out! 
Let  thy  labor  show  thy  thought, 
And  all  that  thou  hast  wrought, 

In  silence  or  in  crowd; 

Be  no  more  unsought; 

Its  gift  allowed, 

Let  men  in  homage  speak, 

And,  strong  or  weak, 

Award  the  victor's  wreath, 

Nor  let  its  thorns  annoy, 
But  prove  in  later  day  and  men 
The  nobler  heroes  and  the  greater  Troy. 


26 


Let  thy  voice  in  noblest  lay 

Be  the  singer  of  to-day. 
Herald  all  its  glories  forth, 
Until  men  shall  see  its  worth; 
Use  it  as  becomes  its  light, 
Increase  its  witness  for  the  right, 
Make  its  gift  of  prophecy 

Banish  every  falsity; 
Sending  on  to  re-create  the  new, 
The  good,  the  beautiful,  the  true. 

Make  thou  another  marriage  feast, 
Invite  the  greatest  and  the  least, 
There  transubstantiate  to  gain 

Life's  load  of  pain; 
Turn  the  water  into  wine 

By  glance  divine, 

'Till  those  who  drink  in  spirit  bow 
And  say,  'The  best  is  with  us  now.' 

Poet,  deign 

To  rule  and  reign. 
For  ever  must  the  surest  splendor  be 

In  the  gift  we  win  from  thee; 
And  where  no  vision  is,  or  seer, 
The  people  perish  and  the  night  is  near. 

VII 

Find  her  once  again  within  the  symbols, 

Where  hearts  seek 
The  eternal  hope  to  speak, 
Varying  from  year  to  year, 
Yet  ever  with  the  pathway  clear 


27 


To  the  realm  from  whence  she  came, 
Where  to-day  as  yesterday  the  same 

Uplifting  strength  remains, 

And  longing  soul  attains 
The  mount  where  God's  own  'Very  good' 

Is  completely  understood. 
Where  kiss  upon  His  vesture  laid, 
Abides  His  time  and  is  repaid; 
Endurance  in  the  royal  heart  begun, 
Triumph  by  celestial  patience  won; 

This  she  opens  to  our  view, 
Lights  the  way  and  leads  us  through. 

Ideals  in  her  hand 
Become  the  real  for  which  they  stand, 

Point  beyond  and  typify 
Unchanging  thought  for  man 

In  the  great  Creator's  plan, 
Show  how  he  labors  on  to  consummate 

Each  hope — perpetuate 
His  love,  longing  still  to  see 
Man's  soul  with  his  in  perfect  harmony. 
And  no  exclusive  law  has  she 

Limiting  man's  sanctity; 
For  the  lowliest  and  the  least 
She  shows  the  temple  and  the  great  High  Priest. 

Would  you  find  the  glory  in  the  cloud, 
Before  which  all  the  stars  have  bowed? 
Gain  through  her  the  inner  sight, 
And,  bathed  in  its  auroral  light, 

The  Hidden  Face  will  be  revealed 
And  all  that  was  before  concealed. 


28 


Truth,  not  then  without  us,  but  within, 
Safe  beyond  the  babble  and  the  din, 

Our  every  hope  surprises 
In  the  blessedness  wherein  it  rises; 

Mercy  takes  the  place  of  fears; 
A  rainbow  now  across  the  years 
Illumes  the  mystery  of  tears. 
While  the  spirit's  ardor  burns, 
Nor  lowliest  aspiration  spurns; 
Finding  Highest  in  creation, 
Feeding  human  inspiration, 
Raising  oft  the  veil  between 
Our  mortal  eyes  and  the  Unseen. 
With  her  the  handmaid  Duty 
Is  transformed  to  Beauty; 

True  renunciation 
Finds  the  largest  consecration, 
And  we  learn  that  life,  not  creed, 

Is  the  universal  need. 

The  humblest  then,  as  worker,  priest,  or  seer, 
Walks  with  his  Lord  and  knows  no  fear. 

Thus  does  earth 
Obtain  the  secret  of  immortal  birth, 

And  writes  upon  its  record  still 
That  good  finds  tomb  for  every  ill. 

O  Smile  of  God,  come  with  thy  quickening  ray; 

Show  the  God-head  in  the  clay; 
To  every  heart  the  poet's  favor  bring; 
Let  swelling  chorus  sing, — 
'The  vision  now  is  here, 
The  symbol's  meaning  clear; 
No  longer  ruled  by  fear, 
Shade  and  shadow  disappear.' 


29 


VIII 

Thou  day-beam  from  on  high, 
To  us  this  hour  draw  nigh; 
Smile  and  symbol  still  of  Deity, 
Come  and  answer  thou  our  plea 
For  the  deeper  life  in  thee. 

Our  need  is  great; 
Our  hope  returneth  desolate; 
We  see  men's  hearts  in  grovelling  way, 
Recognizing  not  the  day; 
Breathing,  but  not  living, 
Getting,  but  not  giving; 
Brazen  in  an  age  of  gold, 
Its  heavenly  alchemy  untold; 

Yearning  not,  but  leading 
To  the  lowest  tempter's  pleading; 

Deaf  to  brothers'  cry  and  call, 

Dead  to  sisters'  agony; 
Waiting  beast-like  in  the  stall 
Of  their  own  up-building; 
Wrong  and  error  gilding, 
Sin's  progency  increasing, 
While  the  hour  its  sorrow  leasing 
Passes  on,  and  inharmonious  madness 
Adds  itself  to  earth's  unmeasured  sadness. 
Thy  presence  sweet  is  everywhere, 

All  thy  beauty  fills  the  air; 
But  the  blind  eye  knows  no  sight, 
Though  a  universe  of  suns  give  light. 


The  deaf  ear  hears  no  prayer, 
Whatever  saint  its  words  prepare. 
Breathe  thou  upon  the  ear  that's  sealed 
Until  a  great  Belief  hath  healed; 
Touch  thou  the  eye  that's  blind, 
And  bid  its  night  thy  witness  find; 

Break  the  captive's  fetters,  and  set  free 
The  soul  all  mindless  of  its  own  vacuity. 
To  thy  habitations  lead 
And  on  living  waters  feed. 
Let  all  our  deeds  be  by  thy  radiance  crowned, 
Our  thoughts  in  semblance  of  thyself  abound; 

Charity  thy  wisdom  know, 
Passion  with  thy  purity  overflow, 
All  unsoiled  its  virtue  keep 
And  in  thy  hands  its  highest  purpose  reap. 
Let  Laughter,  daughter  of  the  sun, 
Fill  the  world  with  happier  glee, 
Drinking  deep  from  fountains  of  Felicity. 
Imagination  own, 

Make  there  thy  throne; 
Rule  thou  our  faith, 
Its  every  portion  consecrate, 
Its  hope  to  deed  translate, 
Dedicate  it  through  thy  grace, 
From  it  all  impurity  efface; 
Let  its  exaltation  be 
To  reach  the  heart  of  God,  and  see 
How  infinite  is  Love's  capacity. 


31 


No  more  then  shall  it  sleep  or  slumber, 
But,  like  the  mountain-echoing  thunder, 
Reverberate  with  music  from  on  high, 
The  discord  of  the  world  defy, 
Changing  all  earth's  deep  affliction 
To  unqhanging  benediction. 
Clothed  with  immortality, 
Yet  wearing  a  divine  simplicity, 
While  Reason  gains  its  loftiest  sight 

In  its  serenely  purifying  light. 
In  that  rosy  dawn  where  thou  wert  born, 
Steep  each  sense,  until  we  know  the  bliss 

Of  thine  awakening  kiss, 
And  own  the  newness  of  thy  morn. 
Then  shall  we  find, 
With  hallowed  mind, 
Every  sunrise  has  thee  for  its  guest, 
As  true  as  when  the  East  in  silence  prest 
The  Dawn,  and  folded  her  upon  his  breast. 
And  every  day  thy  beauty  doth  entrance, 
Yea,  adorn  each  smallest  circumstance; 

And  every  place 
Show  thee  not  darkly,  but  as  face  to  face. 

O  Smile  from  Him, 
Be  not  in  our  nature  dim; 
Take  possession  of  our  souls; 
Create  the  longing  that  controls. 

Sun  descending, 

Night  defending, 

Gift  to  men, 

Come  as  when 

God  heard  the  angelic  chorus  swell 
His  own  assuring  sentence,  'All  is  well.' 


Lift  thou  our  eyes  unto  the  hills, 

Until  the  gaze  life's  tumult  stills; 

In  lonely  or  in  crowded  way, 

Preserve  thy  sway; 

Lead  us  as  we  view  men's  thought  and  deed, 
And  hear  thee  plead 
For  the  justice  all  men  need; 

Then  shall  music  take  the  place  of  moan, 

And  bloom  for  barrenness  atone. 

Come  and  once  again  inspire 

Living  souls  to  use  thy  lyre; 

Let  it  sound  the  newer  song, 

The  older  symphony  prolong! 

Waken  to  immortal  birth 
Sons  of  earth; 

Bid  unworthy  contest  cease, 

The  hour's  imperilled  heritage  release, 

Glorious  in  its  majesty; 

And  while  striving  to  make  free, 
Exhaustless  in  nobility, 

Yet  stifled  with  a  tyranny 

As  odious  in  its  infamy 

As  ever  darkened  human  way 
And  closed  the  portals  to  eternal  day, 

Bid  one  espoused  self  arise 
To  keep  the  pathway  open  to  the  skies. 
Own  thou  his  heart,  then  look  within  to  read 
And  sing  the  song  attuned  to  human  need. 


33 


Poet,  Prophet,  Priest,  and  Seer, 
Unto  every  nation  dear, 
Come  thou  to  ours 

With  transcendent  powers. 
We  need  thine  all-transfiguring  grace 

Across  our  meadowland  of  space. 

We  need  to  hear  thy  voice, 

Bidding  us  rejoice. 
Translate  for  us  the  music  in  the  air; 

Interpret  all  that  is  most  rare. 

In  thy  plenitude  of  power, 
Help  us  guard  our  land's  enriching  dower, 

Its  opulence  of  greatness  sent 

To  be  a  people's  instrument, 

And  advance  God-given  plan 
To  make  complete  His  servant,  Man. 

Be  the  watchman  on  the  height, 
To  tell  us  of  the  night; 

Save  us  from  its  danger  and  its  threat; 
Show  us  where  the  stars  are  set. 
Arise  and  be  our  Prometheus, 
Who  without  defrauding  Zeus 
Supplies  the  fire  for  mortals'  use; 
Stand  upon  the  new  Caucasus. 
Subdue  its  vulture,  chain  and  rock, 
And  its  subtler  mysteries  unlock. 

Show  men  the  freedom  that  enslaves; 
Point  to  the  liberty  that  saves. 
Hold  the  sword  with  awful  flaming, 
And  the  jewel  with  the  heavenly  naming 
Be  the  word  made  flesh;  dwell 
Among  us,  and  thy  gospel  tell. 

For  ever  must  the  surest  splendor  be 
In  the  gift  we  gain  from  thee; 

And  where  no  vision  is  or  seer, 

The  people  perish  and  the  night  is  near. 

34 


IX 

To-day,  to-day, 

O  Smile  of  God,  to-day, 
Add  thy  light  unto  our  lay; 
Come  with  heaven-illuming  rays, 
Show  thyself  within  our  praise. 

Enter  now  our  temple  gate, 
Be  our  gracious  guest  of  state, 

While  with  royal  homage  meet 
We  lay  our  offering  at  thy  feet. 
Come,  Music,  with  celestial  gift, 
In  her  praise  thine  anthems  lift; 
Come,  Song,  with  thy  diviner  ring, 
All  her  long-earned  tribute  sing; 
Come,  Color,  and  let  canvas  speak, 
Where  words  shall  idle  seem  or  weak; 
Come,  Marble,  and  again  embrace 
Her  beauty,  and  its  features  trace; 
Come,  Art,  and  prove  thyself  divine, 
Because  her  glories  in  thee  shine. 
Come  all  things  that  are  good  and  rare, 
Make  her  thine  handmaid  and  her  trophies  wear. 
Ye  hillsides,  laugh  in  answer  to  her  glance; 
Ye  mountains,  robe  her,  and  your  lights  enhance; 
Ye  meadows,  bring  to  her  your  sheaves; 
Ye  trees,  exult  to  show  her  in  your  leaves; 
Ye  valleys,  in  your  dimplement  reveal 
Her  kiss,  that  ye  in  loving  ardor  steal; 
Ye  brooks,  laugh  on  to  see  her  at  your  side; 


35 


Ye  seas  and  rivers,  bring  her  on  each  tide; 

Ye  flowers,  enwreathe  for  her  your  crown; 

Ye  grasses,  waving,  whisper  her  renown; 

Ye  cataracts,  enfold  her  as  ye  leap; 

Ye  precipices,  build  her  altars  steep; 

Ye  moon  and  stars,  beam  on  her  as  ye  shine; 

Ye  greater  lights,  proclaim  her  melodies  divine: 

All  that  has  life  in  one  enraptured  psalm 
Her  greatness  and  her  gifts  embalm. 
Yet  most  triumphant  shall  her  honors  be, 
When,  O  Man,  she  gives  herself  to  thee. 
Then  holy,  holy,  holy,  is  the  song  on  high , 
And  holy,  holy,  holy,  does  the  world  reply. 
Come,  then,  O  Goddess  of  the  light, 
Bring  in  thy  reign  without  one  starless  night! 

Bring  thy  vision  of  the  sun, 

As  when  thy  loveliness  was  won. 
Bring  again  the  vernal  sweetness 
That  enfolds  thine  own  completeness; 
Awake  one  utterance  impassioned, 
Showing  how  thy  praise  is  fashioned. 

Kindle  in  us  those  undying  fires 

That  light  imperishable  desires 
Effulgent  keep  the  life  between 
Our  souls  and  all  that  is  unseen. 

But  see,  she  comes!  away  all  fleeting  doubt,  away! 

She  is  with  us  here  to-day. 
Behold,  in  coronation  robe  she  stands 
To  receive  the  tribute  of  thy  hands 

Sound,  sound,  one  rapturous  song! 
Over  the  land  its  strain  prolong. 


Away,  all  fleeting  doubt,  away! 

She  is  with  us  here  to-day; 
Our  hearts  respond  unto  her  sway. 
See  her  smile,  as  East  and  West 
Place  their  jewels  on  her  breast. 

See  her  touch  upon  the  brow 

Of  our  sunny  Southland  now. 
Watch  her  beckon  to  the  North, 

As  it  brings  its  treasure  forth. 
Away,  all  fleeting  doubt,  away! 

She  is  with  us  here  to-day. 
Here  to  show  us  still  the  throne 

Builded  ever  for  her  own; 
Here  to  teach  us  how  to  tell 

Her  own  unending  miracle; 
Here  to  show  us  how  the  shade  of  wrong 
Dissolves  in  one  undying  song; 
Here  to  tell  us  how  in  lowliest  things 
Some  voice  seraphic  has  its  whisperings. 
Here  to  swell  the  melody  earth  hears, 
High  above  the  music  of  the  spheres, 
Rising  from  the  soul  that  feels  itself  a  part 
Of  every  breathing,  throbbing  heart; 
Here  to  show  us  what  is  free 
In  Love's  divinest  ecstasy; 
Here  to  foster,  not  to-morrow's  splendor, 
But  to-day's  light,  beautiful  and  tender. 
Here  to  lead  us  to  the  height, 
And  roll  away  the  shades  of  night. 
Here  to  speak  God's  word  in  accents  clear, 

To  make  His  light  appear, 
To  show  that  where  no  vision  is,  or  seer, 
The  people  perish  and  the  night  is  near. 


37 


LINCOLN   AT   GETTYSBURG 

A   NATION'S  voice,  a  nation's  praise, 

About  its  honored  dead; 
The  spot  where  on  eventful  days 
Its  heroes  fought  and  bled; 
The  spot  where  Freedom's  spirit  spoke 

In  words  sublime  and  true, 

And  where  her  trumpet  tone  awoke 

The  old  song  and  the  new. 

The  old  song  with  the  newer  strain, 

To  make  the  first  complete, 
With  melody  that  lives  attain 

Through  victory  and  defeat! 
O  sacred  spot!  thrice  sacred  now 

As  years  thy  record  prove! 
Before  thy  shrines  all  patriots  bow, 

Whose  sight  all  doubts  remove. 

The  patriot's  heart  with  ardor  glows, 

Remembering  proffered  lives; 
He  hears  in  one  strong  breeze  that  blows, 

'Life  goes,  but  Love  survives,' 
The  love  that  stirs  a  nation's  heart 

And  bears  a  nation's  fame, 
Wherever  brave  deeds  have  a  part 

And  men  such  deeds  proclaim. 

He  knows  its  thrilling  music  tells 

Of  those  who  fell  asleep, 
And  here  found  tombs,  while  muffled  bells 

A  nation's  birthday  keep. 


He  hears  as  well  the  tender  moan 
That  in  its  cadence  sings 

For  those  who  sit  henceforth  alone, 
Whose  muffled  bell  still  rings. 

He  hears  the  added  strain  it  bears 

For  all  who  bravely  fought, 
For  him  who  in  the  silence  wears 

The  scars  the  battle  brought; 
Who  wears  them  with  a  hero's  might, 

And  honors  still  the  hour 
That  won  a  nation's  priceless  right, 

And  proved  a  nation's  dower. 

He  hears  it  when  it  brings  the  name 

That  won  a  martyr's  crown, 
Our  glorious  chief,  whose  stainless  fame 

His  country's  best  renown. 
It  brings  the  matchless  words  he  said, 

Standing  above  their  sod, 
In  hour  whose  burning  import  led 

A  people  nearer  God. 

It  is  not  ours  to  dedicate 

This  peace  of  earth  so  dear, 
Nor  is  it  ours  to  consecrate 

The  deeds  men  witnessed  here; 
That  has  been  done  by  those  who  died, 

On  nation's  altar  slain; 
They  have  these  hillsides  sanctified, 

Oh,  prove  it  not  in  vain! 


39 


Great  leader  true!  throughout  all  time 

The  world  shall  hear  thy  voice; 
Because  of  thee,  a  holier  chime 

Bids  Liberty  rejoice. 
'Twas  fitting  you  should  tell  of  those 

Who  wrote  in  blood  their  song, 
And  here  thy  nobler  thought  disclose 

How  nations  shall  be  strong. 

How  brave  men  shall  perpetuate 

The  freedom  bravely  won, 
Forbid  that  treason  desecrate 

What  loyal  sires  begun; 
And  here  on  this  great  field  to-day, 

In  memory  of  thy  birth, 
Let  nation's  love  its  tribute  pay, 

And  echo  round  the  earth. 

But  let  our  tribute  reach  the  height 

Thy  larger  manhood  saw, 
That  broad  humanity,  whose  light 

Was  thy  diviner  law; 
That  law  whose  good  is  absolute, 

Whose  mandate,  strong  and  pure, 
From  every  ill  can  good  transmute 

And  make  its  change  secure. 

If  thus  we  find  our  gift  in  thee, 
Its  vaster  strength  will  live 

To  prove  its  own  integrity 
In  what  we  aim  to  give; 


In  sense  of  duty  nobly  met, 

In  nature  nobly  plain, 
In  love  of  men,  sublimely  set 

In  diadems  of  pain. 

In  statesman  of  heroic  mould, 

His  country's  great  high  priest, 
Whose  human  heart  could  still  enfold 

All  things,  the  great,  the  least; 
Who  proved  to  earth  that  simple  trust 

Is  more  than'  Norman  blood, 
That  who  would  rule  must  first  be  just, 

The  great  must  first  be  good. 

To  love  is  ever  to  ascend; 

Oh,  let  our  love,  like  thine, 
The  nation's  highest  good  attend, 

And  with  thy  spirit  shine! 
Thus  shall  our  tribute  catch  from  thee 

Its  worthiest,  noblest,  best; 
And  one  united  country  see 

Thy  life's  divine  bequest, 

O  Gettysburg!  thy  living  dead 

Speak  still  across  the  years, 
And  by  their  voice  our  hearts  are  led 

Above  all  passing  fears; 
But  keep,  O  hills!  one  record  true, 

And  one  great  captain's  name; 
Oh,  then  shall  all  men  see  in  you 

A  nation's  deathless  fame! 


THE  VIOLET 

0  VIOLET,  sweet  violet, 

Within  thy  tender  leaves, 
What  mystic  message  speaks  to  me, 
What  hidden  story  breathes? 

Each  purpling  leaflet  seems  to  strive 

To  whisper  unto  me; 
But  though  I  feel  thy  perfumed  breath. 

Thy  tale  is  still  with  thee. 

And  still  my  wondering  quest  must  ask 
What  power  within  thee  lies 

To  waken  thoughts  'too  deep  for  tears/ 
Yet  thoughts  that  end  in  sighs? 

What  sorrowing  spirit  gave  thee  birth? 

For  still  I  seem  to  feel, 
When  I  inhale  thy  tender  breath, 

Some  strangely  sad  appeal. 

Oh,  wert  thou  born  in  Paradise, 

In  that  dark,  fateful  hour 
When  Eve  first  heard  the  tempter's  voice, 

And  yielded  to  its  power? 

Or  didst  thou  blossom  where  she  stood 
When,  full  of  anguished  fears, 

She  sought  forgiveness  for  her  sin, 
And  wept  repentant  tears? 


42 


Or  didst  thou  bloom  beneath  her  feet, 

When,  by  the  angel  led, 
She  looked  her  last  on  Paradise, 

And  knew  its  hopes  were  fled? 

Or  did  the  air  first  feel  thy  breath 
When  one  great  heart  and  brave 

Died  for  his  Lord?     Did'st  thou  awake 
To  mark  his  lonely  grave  ? 

Perchance  thy  bloom  first  saw  the  light 
When  Love  wooed  love  in  vain, 

And  Venus,  moaning  her  sad  fate, 
Wept  for  Adonis  slain. 

Or  do  thy  leaves  reflect  the  glow 
Of  pity,  wrought  on  high, 

When  faintly  heavenward  ascends 
A  little  child's  weak  cry? 

Or  art  thou  but  the  breath  of  one 

Who  wore  her  life  away, 
Because  a  sin  she  deemed  too  dark 

Forbade  her  lips  to  pray? 

Or  does  the  light  I  find  in  thee 
Come  from  the  patient  smile 

Of  one  who  wore  a  crown  of  pain, 
Unmurmuring  the  while? 

Or  did'st  thou  catch  the  weary  sighs 
Wrung  from  a  noble  soul, 

Compelled  to  climb  another's  stair, 
And  eat  a  loveless  dole? 


43 


Perchance  thou  art  from  those  dark  tears 
That  grief-crowned  mothers  shed, 

When  yet  they  stand  with  empty  arms 
Above  their  first-born  —  dead. 

And  yet  —  O  thought  too  dear  to  speak  !  - 
If  tears  brought  thee  to  light, 

They  surely  were  the  tears  of  Him 
Who  made  our  darkness  bright. 

For  He  alone  could  give  to  grief 
A  power  so  strangely  sweet, 

And  He  alone  could  give  to  woe 
A  fragrance  so  complete. 

O  lovely  flower!  how  vain  my  quest! 

Thou  wilt  not  answer  me; 
The  wondrous  secret  of  thy  life 

Must  still  abide  with  thee. 

And  wise  art  thou;  thy  treasure  keep; 

It  is  enough  to  know 
That  thou  dost  live,  that  from  thy  leaves 

Such  mystic  meanings  flow. 

But  this  I  pray:  if  from  my  tears 
One  flower  should  ever  bloom, 

Oh,  may  it  speak  in  breath  like  thine, 
And  yield  as  sweet  perfume. 


44 


A  SONG  OF  SPRINGTIME 

T^HERE  is  a  song  a  poet  sings, 

That  to  my  heart  true  comfort  brings; 
It  tells  in  such  assuring  way 
The  year's  good  promise  of  the  May; 
And  oft  amid  the  winter  gloom, 
When  days  are  dark,  and  wanting  bloom, 
I  whisper  o'er  the  glad  refrain: 
'The  spring  will  soon  be  here  again.' 

But  catching  now  its  echo  sweet, 
I  breathe  it  into  prayer  most  meet, 
For  you,  O  tender  heart  and  true, 
To  whom  my  soul  is  wed  anew; 
May  each  new  year  your  May-time  bring, 
And,  lingering,  may  its  gladness  cling, 
To  brighten  all  your  winter  gloom, 
When  days  are  dark  and  wanting  bloom. 
And  bid  you  hear  the  glad  refrain: 
'The  spring  will  soon  be  here  again.' 


45 


COMMENCEMENT  ODE 


noble  deed 
Will  each  one  bring 
To  crown  the  years,  whose  echoes  ring 
Within  these  halls? 

What  clamoring  need 
Will  each  one  meet 
As  forth  he  goes  with  eager  feet 
Into  the  world,  to  falter,  fall,  or  lead? 
Oh,  let  no  trifler  answer  here, 
With  boastful  or  with  timid  cry 

Make  his  reply! 

The  hour  demands  a  deeper  thought, 
A  longing  with  high  purpose  fraught, 
And  every  worthy  lesson  caught 
Afar  or  near. 

II 

The  breast-plate  that  your  Mother  gives, 
On  which  her  name  untarnished  lives, 
Will  you  with  stainless  virtue  wear, 
And  her  dauntless  motto  bear, 

Until  the  day  is  done 
And  for  her  your  trophy  won? 
Oh,  guard  it  even  as  your  life! 
Let  no  unworthy  strife 
Its  brightness  dim. 
Add  to  its  lustre,  if  you  will, 
The  story  of  your  skill, 

Whatever  be  your  fate, 
In  lowly  place  or  great, 
Give  to  the  days  your  best, 
And  leave  with  God  the  rest. 


46 


Ill 

This  glorious  hour 

Is  pregnant  with  undreamed-of  power. 
'Tis  yours  to  use, 
'Tis  yours  to  lose; 
You  cannot  its  gift  refuse. 
Shall  not  the  Right  have  truer  ring 
Because  of  What  your  acts  will  bring? 
Shall  not  the  Truth  reveal  her  own 
Because  her  light  within  her  shone? 
Shall  not  each  day  your  wisdom  prove, 
Nor  power  of  earth  your  honor  move? 

These  questions  you  alone  must  meet, 
As  forth  you  go  with  eager  feet. 
Oh,  answer  well! 

By  life,  by  thought,  by  tongue,  by  pen, 
Prove  you  are  men! 

IV 

The  portal  swings  to  darkness  wide, 

And  all  your  paths  are  yet  untried; 

But  hope  before  you  runs 

With  quenchless  torch,  nor  shuns 

The  darkest  way.     With  her  unfading  glow, 

What  may  not  youth  and  vigor  know? 


Yet  dear  as  hope  is,  dearer  still 

Is  Faith;  faith  in  one's  self;  faith  to  fulfil 

Whatever  man  has  strength  to  will; 


47 


Faith  to  climb,  but  greater  faith  to  stand 
With  patient,  yea,  with  folded  hand, 
If  need  be,  letting  life  itself  translate 
The  hidden  meaning  of  the  order,  Wait.' 

VI 

But  if  you  find  your  day 
Amid  the  thunders  of  the  fray, 
Even  until  the  night  is  born, 
And  deeper  night  descend,  without  a  star, 
Without  a  hint,  a  ray, 
A  promise  of  the  morn, 
While  all  your  soul  in  anguish 
Feels  and  owns  the  battle's  scar, 
Oh,  faint  not,  nor  languish, 
But  press  on,  amid  the  throng 
Stalwart,  brave,  and  strong; 
Till  others  of  your  strength  partake, 

And  you  make 
The  echo  that  shall  roll 
Forever  on  from  soul  to  soul; 
The  echo  that  shall  witness  be 
Of  your  best  claim  to  Immortality. 

VII 

And  doubt  not.     Life  will  yield  its  own  to  each. 
Let  nothing  slip  beyond  your  reach; 

For  in  its  wise  economy 
All  things  are  good.     To  use  aright 
Is  the  true  secret  of  the  master's  might; 

And  he  who  with  sincerity 
Still  follows  well  the  light  within 
Shall  make  and  shape  the  greater  light 


For  which  we  wait.     The  grander  day 

It  is  with  you  to  usher  in. 
Its  call  is  sounding  even  as  we  speak; 

Shall  you  its  voice  obey, 
Or  shall  you  craven  prove  and  weak? 
A  land  of  promise  is  your  own; 
But  promise  in  itself  alone 
May  be  but  subterfuge,  and  cloud  the  way. 

'T  is  action,  action,  the  world  needs; 
They  only  live  who  mark  the  way  with  deeds. 

VIII 

With  honest,  earnest,  manly  deeds; 

Deeds  that  shall  prophetic  be 
Of  all  Love's  vast  immensity; 
Deeds  that  stir  to  nobler  aim, 

And  still  proclaim 
The  value  of  life's  creeds. 
Nor  let  the  soul  in  easeful  sloth 
Forget  the  meaning  of  true  growth; 
But  upward,  onward  to  the  Mount,  until  you  see 

The  very  height  of  God's  Eternity, 
Or  show  yourself  transfigured,  even  as  did  He. 
Oh,  tremble  not; 
Nor  let  some  spot 
Upon  the  hour  obscure  your  sun.     Keep  the  brave 

heart 

Of  day,  of  night  a  part; 
With  all  great  thoughts  of  high  emprise 
Forever  shining  from  your  eyes. 


49 


IX 

And  here  we  pause.     Your  gracious  Mother  speaks, 
Her  heart  the  while  o'erflowing  in  her  eyes, 
As  all  in  vain  she  seeks 

To  quell  the  feeling  that  must  rise 
With  thought  of  you. 
We  hear  her  say, 
You  are  my  sons, 
My  life  has  fed, 
My  hand  has  led 
You  to  this  day. 

If  you  are  worthy,  mine  the  praise; 
And,  alas!  ?t  is  also  true 

If  aught  you  do 
To  merit  blame,  or  question  raise 

Of  honor,  worth,  or  truth, 
I  too  must  suffer,  and  my  name 

Be  sullied  by  your  shame. 
But  oh,  turn  with  me  to  the  page 

On  which  is  found  your  heritage 
And  my  imperishable  fame. 

While  this  is  ours,  I  have  no  fear; 
The  guerdon  of  my  toil  has  tribute  clear. 
Behold  the  names!     See  other  wreaths  than  mine 
Around  the  annals  of  their  glory  twine. 

On  battle-field,  in  legislative  hall, 
In  pulpit,  and  in  scholar's  chair, 
Wherever  duty  with  its  trumpet-call 
Has  sounded,  they  were  there; 
They  rendered  unto  me  the  Purple  that  I  wear. 
Turn  now  again  your  sight 

To  what  may  seem  a  lesser  light: 


For  not  in  highest  place 
Will  you  its  beauty  trace; 
Its  softened  ray  reveals 
What  praise  too  oft  conceals; 

Oh,  find;  and  consecrate  anew 
That  homage  ever  and  forever  due 
To  those  who  in  the  silence  face 

Life's  humble  labors  and  its  pain; 

Who  ne'er  complain, 
But  with  unconscious  grace 

The  soul's  true  temples  build;  nor  seek  to  enter  in, 
Content  to  leave  with  Him 
Whether  they  fail  or  win 
The  mystic  meaning  of  the  life  within. 
These,  these  enrich  me  with  imperial  power, 
These  are  the  jewels  in  my  crest 
That  give  to  me  a  matchless    and   unquestioned 
dower. 

And  all  this  priceless  legacy  is  yours, 

With  all  that  it  secures. 
Its  greatness  keep,  make  its  light  your  own; 

Nor  shall  you  stand  alone, 
'The  gods  are  to  each  other  not  unknown.' 

X 

And  now,  with  all  high  hope  and  expectation, 

Shall  your  song  be  one  of  exultation, 
Filled  with  all  the  future  holds, 

And  all  the  present  still  controls? 
Or  shall  its  notes  in  minor  key 

Come  back  to  me, 
Wailing  some  lost  opportunity? 
Among  you  there  are  those 


S1 


Of  heroic  mould; 
But  whatever  you  disclose, 

My  love  and  thought  your  lives  enfold, 
My  hopes,  and  all  that  your  hope  shares, 

My  aspirations  and  my  prayers, 
Must  ever  follow  you, 

False  to  yourself  or  true, 
Whether  the  path  go  downward,  or  lead  to  heights 

above, 
You  cannot  go  beyond  the  circle  of  my  love. 

And  here  my  heart  reminds  me  of  the  few 

Who  came,  and  passed  away 
To  the  bright  vision  of  the  Longer  Day. 

They  went  while  yet  the  dew 
Was  fresh,  and  all  life's  flowers  gave 

The  fragrance  that  is  ever  new. 
So  much  is  theirs  we  may  not  hope  to  save, 
For  us  remain  the  tears, 
The  shattered  hopes  and  fears; 
The  morn  cut  off  too  soon, 
For  them,  beyond  our  gloom, 
The  fuller,  grander  noon, 
The  Spring  time  and  eternal  bloom. 

XI 

For  you  on  every  hand 

Duty  waits. 

Woe  to  him  who  hesitates 
At  her  command; 
Or  fails,when  she  is  near, 

To  keep  the  watchful  eye, 
Or  dare  deny 


52 


To  her  the  listening  ear; 
She  will  teach  you  how  to  see 

The  wants  of  our  humanity; 
To  make  less  cheap  the  lives  of  men; 
To  raise  your  voice  and  use  your  pen 
For  Freedom,  Truth,  and  Right, 
And  keep  them  sacred  in  men's  sight; 
To  love  the  land  we  call  our  own; 
This  land  with  every  Good  supplied; 
This  land  for  which  our  heroes  died; 

To  love  her  not  alone 
For  the  greatness  she  has  shown, 

And  the  grandeur  she  has  known, 
Through  darkness  and  humility 

Your  love  must  be 
The  pledge  of  brave  sincerity. 
Let  martyr's  faith  be  yours  to  give, 

Enforce  and  prove  her  right  to  live. 
But  listen  closest  when  she  tells 

Of  that  benignant  and  eternal  law 
From  which  your  soul  cannot  withdraw; 
Whose  majesty  forever  swells 
The  righteous  plea 
For  true  equality; 
Written  on  all  life's  histories, 
Hidden  in  all  its  mysteries, 

The  one  thing  ever  to  endure, 
Holy,  true,  and  pure; 
That  each  is  part  of  that  great  Plan 
That  knows  the  God  Himself  in  man. 


53 


xn 

For  God,  for  Country,  and  Humanity 

The  cry  is  given, — 

Forward,  now,  with  your  undinted  shield 
Forward,  until  day  to  night  shall  yield; 
Forward,  with  the  soldier's  might; 
Forward,  with  the  scholar's  light; 
Forward,  until  Truth  prevail, 

And  no  foes  the  Right  assail! 
Forward,  until  Freedom's  won 
For  every  race  beneath  the  sun! 

Forward,  until  you 
Have  proved  your  manhood  true. 
Forward,  until  Wisdom's  voice 
Resounds  in  yours,  and  bids  the  world  rejoice. 
Forward,  until  all  shall  see 
And  feel  your  deep  sincerity. 
Forward;  let  the  heights  you  climb 
Point  men  to  heights  still  more  sublime. 
Forward,  till  the  earthly  way 
Fades  in  the  glory  of  Eternal  Day. 


54 


HYMN   TO   WISDOM 

DAUGHTER  of  God!  O  Wisdom,  hear! 
Thou  who  art  never  sought  in  vain, 
We  would  within  thy  court  appear 

And  prove  the  good  we  strive  to  gain. 
Eager  we  seek  the  holy  place 
Where  we  may  see  thee  face  to  face; 
Daughter  of  Him  who  made  the  light, 
Increase  in  us  the  power  of  sight. 

Mother  of  Peace!     A  tranquil  heart 
Abides  with  those  who  know  thee  best; 

And  they  to  life  a  strength  impart, 
In  conflict  to  thyself  attest. 

Oh,  hear  us,  and  our  prayer  attend, 

Let  this,  thy  peace,  on  us  descend; 

Let  tumult  find  in  us  thy  calm, 

Through  conquest  raise  the  victor's  psalm. 

Mother  of  Virtue!  in  whose  voice 

Is  found  the  song  to  life  attuned. 
Oh,  help  us  early  make  that  choice 

That  saves  the  soul  its  deepest  wound! 
But  if  the  evil  should  pursue, 
Do  thou,  dear  goddess,  ill  undo, 
And  lead,  oh,  lead  to  that  fair  hill 
Where  Truth,  ascending,  beckons  still. 

Great  Truth!  Thy  sun,  within  whose  rays 
Earth's  evils  quickly  fade  or  die, 

Whose  golden  flame  creates  the  days 
From  which  all  sin  and  folly  fly; 


55 


Within  his  gleam  let  learning  find 
That  in  itself  it  may  be  blind, 
Or  useless,  idle,  vain,  and  weak, 
Until  through  thee  its  sources  speak. 

Divine  consoler!  —  yea,  and  more, 

True  counsellor,  unfailing  friend, 
Whom  mortals  know  and  then  adore, — 

To  faltering  youth  thy  guidance  lend. 
And  thou  who  art  forever  young, 
Show  us  the  halo  o'er  thee  hung 
When  He  who  made  thee  smiled,  and  saw 
The  full  perfection  of  His  law. 

Hail,  holy  light!     We  feel  thy  power 
Enshrining  sun  and  star  and  earth, 

As  truly  seen  in  smallest  flower 
As  when  we  learn  of  planets'  birth; 

Yet  holiest  art  thou  when  we  see 

In  man  himself  thy  majesty; 

Oh,  shine  out  then  in  human  deed, 

And  crown  thyself  in  human  need! 

All  bounteous  one!  do  not  withhold 
The  light  that  thou  alone  canst  give; 

Through  thine  own  searching  make  and  mould 
And  prove  in  us  the  right  to  live. 

Come!  Take  possession  of  our  souls, 

Be  the  blest  vision  that  controls! 

If  thus  thou  answer  to  our  call, 

Though  owning  nothing,  we  have  all. 


INVOCATORY   ODE 

(Written  for  the  Inauguration  of  a  College  President) 

Q  SPIRIT, 

Maker  of  the  heart, 

From  whom  alone  our  every  good  proceeds, 
Draw  near  and  be  Thyself  a  part 
Of  this  great  hour.     Show  us  our  needs; 
If  we  Thy  purpose  see 
It  must  be,  Lord,  through  Thee, 
All  else  Thy  glory  to  conceal, 
But,  oh,  do  Thou  Thyself  reveal  ! 

We  would  be  wise. 

Great  Teacher,  still  bestow 

The  gift  to  know 

Where  wisdom  is.     Brighter  than  ruby's  glow 
Is  the  fair  jewel  it  is  Thine  to  give 
To  those  who  in  Thy  presence  live. 
The  path  of  understanding  we  shall  see 
Only  as  we  walk  with  Thee. 

We  would  be  strong. 

Make  right  prevail, 

Whate'er  assail; 

Hold  Michael's  sword  within  our  hand, 
With  strength  to  dare  and  to  withstand. 

We  know  the  day 

Is  worth  the  fray, 

That  all  this  conquest  may  be  ours, 
If  his  courage  sway  our  powers: 


57 


Nor  make  the  battle  less; 

The  soul  must  know  its  stress, 
And  through  the  struggle  win  release, 
And   gain  at  last  the  promised  peace. 

We  would  be  true. 

This  above  all. 

Author  of  truth!     On  Thee  we  call 
To  free  all  men  from  error's  thrall. 

Without  this  we  must  bondmen  be, 

Subject  to  basest  slavery 
Fill  with  the  truth  the  soul, 

Make  the  moral  nature  whole! 
O  voice  of  God!  sound  full  and  strong, 
Until  our  lives  the  strain  prolong; 
Till  it  is  clear  in  all  we  do 
That  we  unto  ourselves  are  true. 

So  mould  each  man 
On  grandest  plan, 

Wise,  strong,  and  true, 
Thy  crown  and  seal  on  all  we  do. 
So  let  possession 
Win  progression, 
Until  the  highest  is  attained, 
And  the  manhood  Thou  dost  honor 
Prove  the  manhood  we  have  gained. 
And  thus,  O  Thou  who  canst  make  great, 
Show  us  'tis  men  that  make  a  state; 
Then  shall  the  nation  stand  secure, 
And  all  that  is  of  worth  endure. 


WEDDING  HYMN 

O  SUN» 

From  out  whose  gracious  rays 
Came  forth  the  day  of  days 

When  my  dear  Love  was  born, 
Shine  out, 

And  with  thy  brightness  pay 
Due  homage  to  her  wedding  day; 
Bring  gift,  in  golden  gleam, 
A  prophecy  of  good  in  every  beam; 
Rejoice  with  so  much  of  thyself  that  in  her  lives, 
Which  she  with  loving  joy  to  others  freely  gives. 

O  Moon, 

From  out  whose  peaceful  life, 

A  spirit  came  to  guard  her  own  from  strife, 
Shine  out, 

And  with  thy  softest  light 

Make  happy  Peace  to  rule  her  wedding  night; 
Let  all  thy  rays  in  silvery  sheen, 
Whisper  of  coming  nights  serene; 
Rejoice  with  so  much  of  thyself  that  in  her  lives, 
Which  she  with  loving  joy  to  others  freely  gives. 

Oh  Stars, 

From  out  whose  twinkling  beams 

Came  radiant  gleams 

To  dwell,  and  find  within  her  soul  an  added 

glow, 

A  sunnier  warmth  than  ever  stars  do  know, 
Catch  from  unsetting  suns  to-night 
A  ruddier  tint — a  hint  of  Heavenly  light; 


59 


Reflect  her  eyes, 

And  make  new  beauty  in  the  skies; 
Rejoice  with  so  much  of  yourselves  that  in  her  lives, 
Which  she  with  loving  joy  to  others  freely  gives. 

O  Flowers, 

Whose  censers  swinging  slow, 
To  touch  the  breath  that  first  she  drew, 
Lift  loyally  your  heads,  and  gayly  smile 
With  joy,  the  while 

Exhaled  rare  fragrance  fed  with  morning  dew 
In  rich  perfume 
Her  bridal  blossoms  bloom; 
Cull  sweet  perfection  from  her  face, 
And  then  give  back  your  borrowed  grace; 
Rejoice  with  so  much  of  yourselves  that  in  her  lives, 
Which  she  with  loving  joy  to  others  freely  gives. 

O  Music, 

Born  upon  celestial  lyres, 
And  thrilling  'mid  angelic  choirs, 
Come  nearer  earth  to-day, 
Whisper  in  my  lay; 
Repeat  the  melody  you  sent 
When  to  the  world  her  voice  you  lent; 
Swell  in  the  air  that  tells 
The  echoes  of  the  bells; 
Be  like  her  lover's  heart, 
Of  her  own  a  part; 

Rejoice  with  so  much  of  yourself  that  in  her  lives, 
Which  she  with  loving  joy  to  others  freely  gives. 


60 


THE  MESSAGE  OF  THE    DEAD 
(MEMORIAL  DAY) 

f^\NCE  again  through  the  soundless  street 

Echoes  the  tread  of  marching  feet, 
And  once  again  the  spring-time  waves 
Perfumed  grasses  over  its  graves. 

Once  again  the  immortelles  bloom 
Over  the  soldier's  honored  tomb, 
While  we  a  soulful  chorus  raise 
To  those  beyond  our  meed  of  praise, — 

The  Dead,  who  speak  in  mightier  tone 
Than  any  living  lips  have  known, 
Who  through  the  silence  still  proclaim 
A  message  grander  than  their  fame. 

Hear  it,  heed  it,  O  thinking  men, 
Send  it  afar  with  voice  and  pen, 
Or  else  these  sons  have  died  in  vain, 
And  you  their  mighty  conquest  slain. 

Oh,  hearken  to  it  here  to-day, 
Hear  it,  and  on  your  altars  pray 
For  stronger  hand  and  wiser  heart, 
Its  good  to  guard,  its  word  impart. 

'We  died,'  they  say,  'that  you  should  be, 
The  voice  of  nobler  prophecy, 
Advance  the  soul-illuming  light 
That  puts  the  shade  of  caste  to  flight. 


61 


'We  died,  O  men,  that  you  might  see 
The  freedom  that  alone  makes  free, 
Finding  the  doom  of  race  unrolled, 
Unless  its  men  are  self-controlled. 

'We  died  our  fellow-men  to  save, 
From  every  shackle  of  the  slave, 
Make  plain  the  "inward  liberty/' 
That  lives  the  true  humanity. 

'And  born  of  this,  time's  fairest  flower 
Yields  unto  you  its  priceless  dower, 
Its  boundless  good  in  fragrance  now 
Asks  from  your  heart  one  loyal  vow. 

'Crown  it  with  love  that  shall  appear 
As  is  the  sun  at  noon  day  clear, 
Then  wreathe  to-day  the  blue  and  gray 
With  bloom  that  fadeth  not  away. 

'The  bloom  that  sees  not  in  the  past, 
In  war's  alarm  or  trumpet  blast, 
One  gleam  of  that  dark  hour  survive 
That  kept  the  reign  of  hate  alive. 

'Oh,  let  the  mantle  spun  in  blood, 
And  woven  for  a  nation's  good, 
Cover  the  errors  that  were  made, 
Errors  in  sorest  anguish  paid. 

'The  reverence  that  holds  us  dear 
Proves  the  divine  is  with  you  here; 
Let  living  hearts  its  blessing  feel, 
Service  for  them  its  witness  seal. 


62 


'Forget  not  those  who  did  not  die 
With  broken  heart  and  stifled  cry, 
Who  kept  the  home  and  hearth  fire  bright, 
Through  tears  that  made  no  rainbow  light. 

'True  soldiers,  though  they  bore  no  sword, 
Nor  blazoned  page  their  names  record, 
Thorn-pierced  and  wounded,  brave  and  calm, 
Their  country's  solace  and  its  balm. 

<O  noble  woman,  unto  you 

Is  our  exulting  tribute  due! 

Thy  strength  the  conflict  only  proves, 

Thy  courage  high  the  night  removes. 

'No  battle  is  like  thine,  nor  scar, 
Life's  midnights  but  reveal  thy  star, 
Thy  faith  sublime,  that  never  dies, 
And  all  thy  suffering  justifies. 

'  Others  there  are  whose  names  once  dear 
Now  sacred  in  your  sight  appear. 
No  longer  young,  but  still  "Our  Boys," 
Bearing  a  youth  no  time  destroys. 

'  "Our  Boys!"    God  bless  them!   Make  them  yours 

In  all  that  reverent  love  secures: 

Keep  smooth  the  path  for  faltering  feet 

And  unto  death  their  wishes  meet. 

'They  walked  with  us,  they  shared  our  pain, 
They  bore  the  old  flag  back  again, 
Its  tattered  folds  an  emblem  still 
Of  all  that  earth  can  best  fulfil. 

'True  to  its  purpose  still  they  served 
And  asked  not  what  the  past  deserved, 

63 


They  proved  the  nation's  steadfast  power 
In  brightest  as  in  darkest  hour. 

'Old  comrade  with  an  empty  sleeve, 
Keep  the  brave  heart;  great  souls   believe 
The  grander  labor  has  been  yours, 
Rebuilding  temple  that  endures. 

'But  one  great  sword  may  not  grow  dim, 
Peace  hath  her  victories  to  win, 
Each  linked  forever  with  the  morn 
Where  sacred  harmonies  are  born. 

'Sword  of  the  Spirit,  do  thy  work! 
Until  no  foes  in  ambush  lurk; 
Protect  the  power  that  guards  and  saves 
The  instinct,  that  no  soul  enslaves. 

'Come,  Love  and  Peace,  make  good  your  reign! 
Let  all  this  land  be  your  domain! 
Till  North,  and  South,  and  East,  and  West 
Make  of  your  gifts  our  country's  crest. 

'  "Our  Country,"  hallowed  be  thy  name! 
And  sacred  before  God  thy  fame! 
Mother  of  Peoples  yet  to  be, 
Sun-crowned  with  Love's  sublimity! 

'No  dead  stone  from  the  past  is  thine, 
On  which  some  buried  self  may  shine, 
No  night  entombing  ruins  vast, 
Its  shadow  on  the  day  to  cast. 


64 


'Thou  art  the  present,  in  an  age 
Replete  with  ripest  heritage, 
One  signal  triumph  all  thine  own, 
Each  man  a  king,  thy  gift  his  throne. 

'May  God-like  men  this  gift  sustain, 
Through  lofty  aim  its  rights  retain, 
Make  statesmen  of  heroic  mold, 
Dauntless  in  truth,  in  wisdom  bold. 

'  "Westward  the  course  of  empire  lies." 
Thou  art  the  West,  whose  sun-lit  skies 
Lighten  the  world,  and  point  the  way 
To  glories  of  the  grander  day. 

'Thy  children  kiss  thy  garment's  hem, 
And  lo!  a  virtue  falls  on  them. 
This  holy  influence  caught  from  thee 
Transmutes  to  loftiest  destiny. 

'This  destiny  we  shared  and  gave 
Our  all  of  earth  its  hope  to  save. 
Resplendent  Hope!  by  thee  enthroned 
Where  nothing  human  is  disowned. 

'To  thy  great  soil  our  dust  is  wed, 
Fit  symbol  of  the  love  you  fed, 
W7hile  with  our  own  are  mingled  those 
Who  faced,  and  fought,  and  fell  as  foes. 

'Brothers  in  death  as  well  as  life, 
Brothers  to-day  beyond  all  strife, 


Brothers  in  holiest  peace  allied, 
Long  may  its  fruit  with  thee  abide.' 

This  is  the  message  of  the  dead, 
In  solemn  cadence  sung  and  said. 
Its  mandate  true  and  strong  and  great, 
Let  life,  not  death  perpetuate. 


SALUTAMUS 

QOLDIERS  brave  in  days  of  old, 

Facing  dangers  manifold, 
Looked  unto  their  king  to  cry, 
'Thee  do  we  salute  and  die!' 

Service  for  an  earthly  king 
Other  ending  cannot  bring; 
Whatsoe'er  thy  record  be, 
Death  is  all  it  gives  to  thee. 

Christian  brave,  where'er  thy  way, 
Thine  it  is  with  joy  to  say, 
'King,  to  whom  my  heart  I  give, 
Thee  do  I  salute  and  live!' 

Service  for  the  Heavenly  King, 
Love  and  life  eternal  bring; 
He  alone  true  life  can  give, 
Him  we  may  salute  and  live. 


66 


LYRICS 


REDEEMING  LOVE 

T   KNOW,  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  lives; 

This  thought  to  life  its  highest  glory  gives; 
But,  O  my  Soul,  how  much  of  this  is  shared 
With  those  to  whom  no  portion  is  prepared? 

He  lives  in  self-surrender  like  His  own; 
Have  I  in  truth  such  self-surrender  shown? 
Then  truly  is  His  own  redemption  shared 
With  those  for  whom  no  portion  is  prepared. 

My  Christ!     My  Lord!     This,  this  I  cannot  do, 
Unless  Thou  daily  all  my  strength  renew, 
And  grant  to  me  to  give  as  I  have  shared 
The  great  redemption  by  Thyself  prepared. 

Then  though  my  soul  dwell  in  some  secret  place, 
And  Thou  alone  its  earthly  record  trace, 
Yet  surely  is  its  own  redemption  shared 
With  those  for  whom  no  portion  is  prepared. 


PRAYER 

A    SABBATH  peace  is  on  the  earth, 

A  Sabbath  quiet  in  the  air; 
Oh,  let  them  touch  my  heart,  dear  Lord, 
And  quicken  it  to  thoughtful  prayer. 

To  prayer  that  freely  goes  to  thee 

With  eager  wish  to  know  thy  will, 

Content  to  let  the  blessing  wait, 

And  all  its  own  great  law  fulfil. 

For  well  I  know,  thou  God  of  Love, 
No  soul  finds  Thee  by  word  alone; 

Oh,  make  my  life  itself  a  prayer, 

A  constant  pleading  at  Thy  throne! 


TRUST 

F   SEE  not  what  the  day  may  bring, 

I  know  not  what  the  night  may  yield; 
But  one  great  thought  my  soul  doth  fill: 

God  is  my  Light,  my  Hope,  my  Shield. 

I  may  not  walk  where  others  lead, 

Some  faiths  I  do  not  comprehend; 

But  this  I  know:  that  God  is  Love, 
And  He  will  all  my  ways  attend. 

I  may  not  keep  one  worldly  gift, 
So  much  to  me  this  life  denies; 

But  with  the  Bread  of  Life  He  fills, 
My  hungry  soul  he  satisfies. 

All  earthly  loves  know  change  and  loss, 
All  earthly  glories  pass  away; 

But  He  supplies  the  life,  the  loves, 
That  know  no  shadow  of  decay. 

Let  then  the  day  bring  what  it  will, 

And  still  the  night  its  portion  yield; 

I  walk  serene,  upheld  by  Him 

Who  is  my  Life,  my  Light,  My  Shield. 


COMMUNION 

Lord,  and  make  Thy  Presence  known; 
With  larger  light  our  lives  endow; 
Increase  the  love  that  can  alone 
A  sacramental  feast  allow. 

This  outward  rite  is  poor  indeed, 

Unless  the  Christ  is  found  within; 

And  He  the  Soul  its  portion  feed, 

Strengthen  the  heart,  and  cleanse  from  sin. 

Awake,  O  Soul!  behold  Him  near; 

Through  human  eyes  he  pleadeth  still; 
In  human  form  make  Him  appear, 

Through  human  aid  his  hopes  fulfil. 

Reach  out  in  this  communion  hour, 

And  touch  with  Him  some  brother's  hand; 

Bestow  the  food  with  Christ-like  power, 
And  lo  !  beside  you  see  Him  stand. 


72 


WORTHY    THY    GOSPEL 


Thy  Gospel,  Lord, 
This  is  my  prayer; 
Worthy  its  thought  of  me, 

Its  tender  care. 
Worthy  its  duties  high, 
Waiting  each  day; 
Worthy  its  Light  divine, 
Pointing  the  way. 

Worthy  the  peace  it  brings 

When  tempests  lower; 
Worthy  the  home  prepared, 

Won  by  its  power. 
Worthy  the  matchless  love, 

Casting  out  fears; 
Worthy  its  sorrows,  too, 

Worthy  its  tears. 

Lord,  do  I  ask  too  much? 

Greater  remains, 
Thinking  of  Calvary's 

Agonized  pains. 
Worthy  of  this,  O  Christ, 

I  cannot  be, 
Save  as  Thy  boundless  love 

Pleadeth  for  me. 


73 


THE  SCHOLAR'S  STRENGTH 

thank  Thee,  Lord,  Thou  bidst  man  see 
In  human  lives  some  part  of  Thee; 

This  Faith  and  Hope  are  left  secure 

In  souls  that  labor  and  endure. 

We  thank  Thee  for  the  influence  shed 
When  Thought  is  by  Thy  Spirit  led; 
Where  leading  others  means  the  sway 
Of  lofty  purpose  day  by  day. 

We  bless  Thee,  Lord,  whatever  befall 
Leaders  arise  to  meet  Thy  call; 
And  leave  to  earth  the  quenchless  light 
Of  wisdom  found  within  Thy  Sight. 

Lord,  over  all,  'tis  ours  to  praise 
That  we  have  walked  in  fruitful  ways, 
Where  Learning's  toil  was  glorified 
By  Scholar  unto  Thee  allied. 


COBBLE   AND    CRYSTAL 

HP  HE  sun  then  light  upon  a  stone, 

And  it  a  cobble-stone  remained; 
Its  rays  upon  a  crystal  shone 

And  myriad  eyes  to  light  attained. 

Yet  in  the  aeons  by  and  bye 

May  not  the  stone  a  crystal  be? 

I  can  but  answer  with  a  sigh, 
"It  is  not  crystal  now  for  me." 


74 


WHERE  POPPIES  GROW 

f^  LOSE  by  the  field  where  poppies  grow, 

My  Love  and  I,  long  years  ago, 
Went  hand  in  hand,  one  summer  day, 
In  that  fair  land  that  keeps  the  May 
Forever  hid  in  skies  of  blue, 
The  morning  ever  fresh  with  dew, 
And  all  the  light  of  springtime  glow, — 
The  golden  land  where  poppies  grow. 

Here,  as  we  plucked  the  sunlit  flower, 
We  saw  the  secret  of  its  power; 
In  love  it  won  from  shade  and  sun, 
And  lived  its  light  till  day  was  done; 
Caught  golden  gleam,  and  in  its  hue 
Still  held  the  freshness  of  the  dew 
And  gave  no  hint  that  winter  snow 
Can  blight  the  fields  where  poppies  grow. 

O  Love,  't  is  years  and  years  ago, 

Since  we  have  walked  where  poppies  grow, 

Yet  have  you  kept  for  me  the  glow 

Of  that  fair  day  so  long  ago; 

As  hand  in  hand  we  walk  to-day, 

You  fill  my  heart  with  joy  of  May, 

And  though  our  heads  are  white  as  snow 

Love  keeps  the  gleam  the  poppies  know. 


75 


HYMN  FOR  FOREFATHERS'  DAY 


of  the  Pilgrim,  in  whose  name 
Our  land  was  born  through  blood  and  flame, 
Grant  us  to  keep  its  altar  fires 
Fed  with  the  torch  of  high  desires. 

Our  fathers'  God!  we  look  to  Thee 
To  give  the  Truth  that  made  them  free. 
It  was  for  this  they  lived  and  died; 
Through  this  their  deeds  are  glorified. 

God  of  the  nations!  in  whose  sight 
Men  walk  from  darkness  into  light, 
Give  us  the  light  our  fathers  saw, 
Living  and  loving  all  Thy  law. 

Give  us  their  singleness  of  heart, 
Their  courage  unto  us  impart, 
Their  steadfast  faith,  unfaltering  trust, 
Their  stern  support  of  all  that's  just. 

Their  fearless  following  of  the  right, 
Through  days  of  threat  and  blinding  night; 
Their  strength  to  kneel  and  praise  and  pray, 
Though  tempests  swept  athwart  their  way. 

Through  stress  and  storm  they  won  for  earth 
The  secret  of  a  nation's  birth; 
The  good  they  gave  is  ours  to  keep; 
O  God!  let  us  its  harvest  reap. 


DEDICATION  HYMN 

T}RAW  Thou  near,  O  Christ,  to-day; 
Hear,  oh,  hear  us,  while  we  pray; 
Grant  thy  blessing  on  this  place, 
Send  new  witness  of  Thy  grace. 

Here  may  worthy  hope  fulfilled 
Prove  the  rock  on  which  we  build; 
Its  foundation  all  Thine  own, 
All  Thy  truth  its  corner-stone. 

Here  let  sinners  come  and  know 
Healing  touch  for  every  woe; 
Here  let  sacramental  feast 
Feed  the  greatest  and  the  least. 

Here  let  love  forever  reign, 
Every  heart  its  source  attain; 
Here  let  Bread  of  Life  be  given, 
And  the  path  made  plain  to  Heaven. 

Let  each  cross  proclaim  its  joy, 
Shade  of  selfishness  destroy; 
Show  us  how  the  life  divine 
In  the  human  still  may  shine. 

Thus  shall  His  own  Gospel  speak, 
Save  the  erring,  shield  the  weak; 
And  our  lives,  in  true  accord, 
Find  best  service  for  our  Lord. 


77 


EASTER  HYMN 

T   DO  not  ask  Thee,  Lord,  to  show 

A  recompense  for  labor  done; 
It  is  enough  if  I  may  know 

Some  victory  the  hour  has  won. 

But  oh,  I  ask  Thee  to  reveal 

The  upward  way  that  leads  to  Thee! 
Whatever  else  Thy  love  conceal, 

This  narrow  path  make  plain  to  me. 

And  firmly  keep  my  feet  therein, 
My  hand  in  Thine,  whatever  befall; 

One  radiant  hope  without,  within, 
Until  the  final  summons  call. 

Then  will  an  Easter  morn  be  mine, 
And  only  death  be  found  to  die; 

Love  claiming  life  by  power  divine, 
And  Christ  Himself  forever  nigh. 


THANKSGIVING 

all  the  good  that  life  supplies, 
For  all  thy  sovereign  will  denies, 
For  mercies  old  and  mercies  new, 
For  skies  o'ercast  and  skies  all  blue, 
I  thank  Thee,  Lord. 

For  flowers  that  bloom  along  the  way, 
Yielding  the  beauty  of  their  day, 


For  thorns  that  with  this  beauty  come, 
For  all  I  get  from  shade  and  sun, 
I  thank  Thee,  Lord. 

For  laughter,  and  not  less  for  tears, 
For  disappointment,  doubts,  and  fears, 
For  all  that  gives  the  strength  to  grow 
In  sympathy  with  others'  woe, 
I  thank  Thee,  Lord. 

For  enemies  who  bid  me  see 
My  weakness  and  infirmity, 
For  friends  who  wound  as  well  as  bless, 
Increase  life's  joys,  and  share  its  stress, 
I  thank  Thee,  Lord. 

For  Bethlehem,  for  Gethsemane, 
For  all  the   scenes  of  Calvary, 
For  so  much  of  the  Christ  in  me 
As  gives  them  perpetuity, 
I  thank  Thee,  Lord. 

For  all  save  sin;  yea,  even  here 
How  wondrous  does  Thy  love  appear! 
Without  it  should  I  ever  know 
The  fulness  of  love's  overflow? 
I  thank  Thee,  Lord. 

For  those  great  souls  who  give  to  earth 
The  secret  of  immortal  birth, 
Who  by  their  living  light  the  way 
To  glories  of  eternal  day, 
I  thank  Thee,  Lord. 


79 


For  aspirations  and  desires, 
New  born  of  pentecostal  fires, 
And  saying  still,  'Believe  in  Me 
Through  time  and  through  eternity/ 
I  thank  Thee,  Lord. 

For  all  of  Nature  sun-suffused 
With  thought  of  Thee,  and,  rightly  used, 
Setting  the  soul  forever  free 
To  feel  its  own  immensity, 
I  thank  Thee,  Lord. 

For  that  great  law  by  which  the  heart 
Discerns  truth  in  the  inward  part, 
And  knows  itself  to  Thee  allied, 
Thy  love  and  wisdom  verified, 
I  thank  Thee,  Lord. 

For  all  that  gift  supreme,  divine, 
By  which  men's  deeds  in  splendor  shine, 
The  gift  through  which  our  souls  may  see 
He  only  lives  who  can  thank  Thee, 
I  thank  Thee,  Lord. 

For  all  we  reach  but  cannot  grasp, 
For  all  the  good  we  may  not  clasp, 
For  sleep  at  last  for  tired  eyes, 
And  hopes  beyond  the  day's  sunrise, 
I  thank  Thee,  Lord. 


So 


LIGHT  AT   EVENTIDE 

TF  shadows  overcast  my  morn, 

And  clouds  its  sunlight  hide, 
I  only  ask  Thee,  Lord,  to  send 
Thy  light  at  eventide. 

Though  storms  still  hide  my  sun  at  noon, 

And  darkness  yet  abide, 
My  soul  submissive  only  pleads 

For  light  at  eventide. 

And  while  I  plead,  I  know,  O  Christ, 

If  I  am  near  Thy  side, 
Life's  storms  will  end  in  peace  at  last 

And  light  at  eventide. 


COMMUNION  WITH  CHRIST 

T  SOUGHT  the  star  of  Holy  Night, 
But  sought  it  on  that  lofty  height 
Where  angel  hosts  were  led, 
Forgetful  that  its  brightest  rays 
Are  always  on  life's  lowliest  ways 
With  truest  radiance  shed. 

I  found  it  not  from  earth  afar, 
The  light  of  this  all  sacred  Star 

That  leads,  O  Christ!  to  Thee; 
I  saw  it  shine  in  human  eyes, 
Made  brighter  by  some  sweet  surprise 

Of  *lo  ving*sy  mpathy ! 


The  cup  of  water  for  Thy  sake, 
The  wish  to  lighten  hearts  that  ache, 

Reveal  its  light  to  me; 
But  most  I  feel  its  radiant  power 
When,  in  some  silent,  sacred  hour, 

My  heart  communes  with  Thee. 


LOVE  AND  WORK 

not  alone  to  feel  Thy  love, 
Though  sweet  that  love  may  be  ; 
I  ask  Thee ,  Lord ,  to  grant  as  well, 
True  ways  of  serving  Thee. 

Teach  me  to  feel  my  daily  task, 

A  blessing  from  Thy  hand  ; 

Make  me  to  hear ,  each  day  I  live , 
Thy  gospel's  firm  command . 

To  work  ere  yet  the  night  shall  fall ; 

To  find  in  work  reward ; 
To  know  that  whatsoe'er  I  do 

Is  done  for  Thee,  O  Lord. 

And  thus  may  love  and  work  at  last 
Win  love  and  work  for  me , 

Where  all  who  live  in  love  are  found 
With  gladness  serving  Thee. 


THE  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 


what  we  get,  but  what  we  give, 
The  Christmas  blessing  surely  wins  ; 
And  most  for  him  the  Christ  shall  live 
Who  now  can  say,  *  I  give  my  sins.' 


82 


MIZPAH 

OVE  struggles  with  a  thousand  fears, 

Sees  dangers  yet  unseen  ; 
Unmindful  of  the  promise  sweet, 
The  Lord  will  watch  between. 

Though  all  the  space  of  earth  divide, 

Oh,  learn  on  Him  to  lean  ; 
And  hear  His  own  voice  say  to  thee, 

Thy  Lord  will  watch  between. 

He  knows  what  absence  means  to  love, 

He  knows  the  sorrow  keen, 
But  gives  Himself  to  those  who  trust, 

And  He  will  watch  between. 

In  safety  bring  His  own  at  last, 

Where  face  to  face  is  seen 
The  love  that  shelters  and  endures, 

Where  nothing  comes  between, 


SCARS 

QHE  sought  her  dead  on  battlefield, 

Her  king  of  many  wars; 
And,  finding  him,  she  cried,  *  'Tis  he, 
I  know  him  by  his  scars.' 

O  record  of  a  soldier's  fate, 

Whose  light  outshines  the  stars, 

When  she  who  loved  him  best  can  say, 
*I  know  him  by  his  scars !' 


'Tis  thus  the  Christian  knows  the  King 
Whose  glory  nothing  mars, 

Gazing  at  hands  and  feet  and  side, 
He  knows  Him  by  His  scars. 

O  happy  we,  if,  serving  Him 
Till  death  the  door  unbars, 

We  merit  then  from  lips  Divine, 
*  I  know  thee  by  thy  scars !' 


THERE  IS  A  STAR 

'The  star,  which  they  saw  in  the  east,  went  before  them. 

HpHERE  is  a  star  that  lights  my  night, 

And  whispers  still  of  day, 
Keeps  hope  awake  within  my  breast, 
And  lights  my  lonely  way. 

Without  it,  faith  itself  would  fail, 
And  love  grow  cold  and  chill ; 

It  shines,  and  faith  and  hope  and  love 
My  heart  and  being  thrill. 

Within  its  light  I  see  the  King, 

As  did  the  men  of  old, 
And  all  within  its  guiding  ray, 

My  eyes  the  Christ  behold. 

O  blessed  star  that  leads  to  Him ! 

O  holy,  sacred  light ! 
My  soul  looks  up  with  reverent  awe, 

And  hails  thee,  Star  of  Night. 


FUNERAL  HYMN  FOR  A  DISTINGUISHED 
CITIZEN 

pHE  glory  taken  from  our  day, 

By  grief  transfixed,  we  scarce  can  pray ; 
Appear,  O  Lord,  and  by  Thy  word 
Heal  wounds  of  one  unconquered  sword. 
O  Master,  Master  of  the  night, 
Come,  bid  our  sorrow  find  Thy  light. 

This  son  of  man  was  son  of  Thine ; 

We  saw  Thyself  supremely  shine 

In  all  his  mighty  heart  revealed, 

While  every  deed  for  right  appealed. 
O  Master,  Master  of  the  night, 
Come,  bid  our  sorrow  feel  Thy  light. 

The  titles  that  he  won  and  wore 
Could  only  add  and  prove  the  more 
The  matchless  worth  of  one  great  name ; 
Thou  madest  him  man,  this  crowned  his  fame. 
O  Master,  Master  of  the  night, 
Come,  bid  our  sorrows  know  Thy  light. 

Here  as  above  his  grave  we  bow, 

Thou  wilt,  O  Lord,  our  tears  allow  ; 

Nor  wonder  that  we  scare  can  pray, 

Such  glory  gone  from  out  our  day. 
O  Master,  Master  of  the  night, 
Come,  bid  our  sorrows  show  Thy  light. 

GETHSEMANE 

f^\  AGONY  for  human  words  too  deep  ! 

The  Christ  is  calling,  and  His  own  do  sleep! 
What  earthly  soul  may  not  be  now  dismayed, 
When  he  to  sinners'  hands  is  thus  betrayed ! 

85 


THE  BIRD  IN  THE  BELFRY 

A   BIRD  in  the  belfry 

Soars  and  sings,  soars  and  sings, 
While  the  bell  for  the  bridal 
Rings  and  swings,  rings  and  swings ; 
Cheerily  now  from  his  tiny  throat 
His  notes  in  a  burst  of  rapture  float, 
For  the  bird  so  high  in  the  belfry  tower 
Seems  to  feel  the  joy  of  the  passing  hour. 

The  bird  in  the  belfry 

Soars  and  sings,  soars  and  sings ; 
But  the  bell  in  the  belfry 

Tolls  and  swings,  tolls  and  swings, 
And  now  I  know  this  birdling  gay 
Sings  for  himself  the  livelong  day  ; 
A  hermit  is  he  in  the  belfry  tower, 
Tears  or  smiles  have  over  him  no  power. 

O  bird  in  the  belfry  ! 
Not  like  thee,  not  like  thee, 

Does  my  heart  in  its  music 
Ask  to  be,  ask  to  be  ; 

Its  notes  must  smile  if  others  are  glad  ; 

Its  notes  must  weep  if  others  are  sad ; 

And  sooner  far  would  I  weep  with  the  crowd, 

Than  sing  alone  on  the  fairest  cloud. 


SERENITY 

O  BLESSING  found  in  God-like  soul ! 

At  last  I  see  how  thou  art  won; 
The  owner  asks  from  earth  no  dole, 
Nor  leaves  an  honest  task  undone. 

86 


THE  BARD'S  EPITAPH 

(A  hundred  years  after) 

sleeps  below  whom  men  call  dead; 
^       A  hundred  years  is  what  is  said, 
If  here  aright  the  record's  read 

On  this  cold  stone; 
Yet,  standing  o'er  this  narrow  bed, 
We  hear  men  moan. 

Though  mourning  still,  we  meet  to-day 
To  wipe  the  old  harsh  word  away; 
While  sunbeams  pause,  amid  their  play, 

To  claim  their  share, 
And  laugh  as  though  they  too  would  say, 

'He  is  not  there.' 

He  lives  wherever  daisies  bloom, 
Wherever  hearts  for  Love  have  room, 
Where  scentless  earth  takes  on  perfume 

For  beauty's  sake, 
And  flowers  fade  not,  nor  consume 

The  light  they  make. 

Wherever  man  to  man  is  kin, 
And  hate  is  felt  the  chiefest  sin, 
Where  God  Himself,  above  earth's  din, 

Proves  right  to  reign, 
Because  the  lowliest  He  would  win, 

And  none  disdain. 

Where  discord  turns  to  melody, 
And  song  to  perfect  harmony, 
Where  verse  includes  humanity, 

He  leads  us  still, 
And  with  the  magic  of  his  plea 

Makes  strong  our  will. 


And  where  majestic  common  sense 
Its  simple  laws  can  best  dispense, 
And  couple  faith  with  hope,  intense 

For  human  need, 
We  find  him  here  without  pretense, 

And  learn  his  creed. 

Beloved  Bard!  in  song  like  thine 
The  world's  immortal  glories  shine ; 
Oh,  that  we  may  like  thee  enshrine 

Our  best  pursuit, 
And  hold  the  powers  that  still  entwine 

Great  Wisdom's  root ! 


RUSSIA 
STATE 


A 


MIGHTY  figure  chained  to  rock, 

A  vulture  feeding  on  its  life ; 
The  key  that  might  the  chain  unlock 
Held  by  a  fate  that  murders  strife. 

CHURCH 

The  loaves  and  fishes,  but  no  Christ ; 

Husks  fed  to  living,  hungry  souls ; 
Hearts  longing,  yet  by  lust  enticed, 

Of  flesh  the  idol  it  enfolds. 

PEOPLE 

As  one  who  lifts  her  hands  by  night, 
Nor  dares  to  raise  them  in  the  day, 

Knowing  a  woe  the  sun  would  blight, 
Yet  stifled  if  by  sun  she  pray. 


88 


DEAD  LOVE 

loves  had  I .     Now  both  are  dead, 
And  both  are  marked  by  tombstones  white. 
The  one  stands  in  the  churchyard  near, 
The  other  hid  from  any  mortal  sight. 

The  name  on  one  all  men  may  read, 

And  learn  who  lies  beneath  the  stone  ; 

The  other  name  is  written  where 
No  eyes  can  read  it  but  my  own. 

On  one  I  plant  a  living  flower, 

And  cherish  it  with  loving  hands  ; 

I  shun  the  single  withered  leaf 

That  tells  me  where  the  other  stands. 

To  that  white  tombstone  on  the  hill 

In  summer  days  I  often  go, 
From  this  white  stone  that  nearer  lies 

I  turn  me  with  unuttered  woe. 

O  God,  I  pray,  if  love  must  die, 

And  make  no  more  of  life  a  part, 
Let  witness  be  where  all  can  see, 

And  not  within  a  living  heart. 


EARTH'S  REQUITAL 

A^  WEARY  woman  heard  a  people's  praise  ; 

All  she  had  longed  for  freely  now  they  gave. 
Alas !  they  knew  not  that  her  saddened  gaze 
Saw  roses  falling  only  in  a  grave. 


CRADLE  SONG 

(~)   SLEEP!  with  thy  soft  hand 
^>^     Touch  thou  my  baby's  brow; 
With  thy  soft  kiss,  O  Sleep, 

Seal  thou  his  eyelids  now; 
Take  him  where  quiet  hours 

All  peaceful  blessings  bring; 
Show  him  thy  fairest  scenes, 

Thy  sweetest  murmurs  sing, 
O  Sleep!  thy  murmurs  sing 
To  my  king. 

If  Heaven  should  ask  my  child, 

Dread  fear  my  heart  would  fill; 
But,  Sleep,  I  give  to  thee, 

Nor  think,  nor  dream,  of  ill; 
Yet  with  thy  restful  love, 

From  Heaven  I  know  thou  art, 
No  other  place  could  yield 

The  good  thou  canst  impart. 
O  Sleep!  thy  murmurs  sing 
To  my  king. 

Do  thou  while  darkness  reigns 

Lead  him  to  realms  of  light ; 
Show  him  the  land  where  day 

Is  never  lost  in  night ; 
Bring  him  from  scenes  like  these 

Safe  when  the  darkness  flies, 
And  Heaven  I  too  shall  see 

Deep  in  his  radiant  eyes. 
O  Sleep  I  thy  murmurs  sing 
To  my  king. 


90 


SONGS  WITHOUT  WORDS 

A    MOTHER  sings  to  her  sleeping  babe 

A  lullaby  soft  and  low; 
But  deep  in  her  heart  she  keeps  a  song 
That  words  can  never  know. 

For  speech  is  shallow,  and  silence  deep; 
What  hearts  feel  most  they  cannot  speak; 
And  the  sweetest  songs  we  sing  below 
Are  those  that  words  can  never  know. 

A  lover  brings  to  his  waiting  bride 

A  message  tender  and  true; 
But  the  song  that  wakens  love  to  life 
No  language  ever  knew 

For  speech  is  shallow,  and  silence  deep; 
What  hearts  feel  most  they  cannot  speak; 
And  the  noblest  songs  we  sing  below 
Are  those  that  words  can  never  know. 

A  maiden  kneels  at  a  sacred  shrine, 

Seeking  a  blessing  meet; 
But  the  truest  prayers  that  Heaven  hears 
No  human  lips  repeat. 

For  speech  is  shallow,  and  silence  deep; 
What  hearts  feel  most  they  cannot  speak; 
And  the  truest  prayers  we  breathe  below 
Are  those  that  words  can  never  know. 


LABOR'S  GIFT 

PO  keep  amid  the  storm  the  calm, 

To  know  in  pain  the  safest  peace, 
Seek  not  in  ease  a  fancied  balm, 

Nor  ask  from  toil  unwise  surcease. 


91 


WRITTEN  IN  A  COPY  OF  THE 
RUB  A I  TAT 

SONG  and  Singer,  that  so  well  enshrine 

The  quenchless  longing  for  the  life  divine, 
The  fears,  the  hopes,  the  struggles  and  the  pain, 
The  drink  of  water,  when  the  soul  asks  wine, 

Who  reads  thee  in  the  days  of  fleeting  time, 
Must  lose  the  deeper  word  within  the  line, 

The  word  that  bids  the  song  and  singer  live, 
And  still  forbids  the  melody  decline. 

Ah  well  for  him  who  can  himself  resign, 
To  all  that's  ordered  in  the  great  Design, 
Nor  questions  as  he  presses  bravely  on, 
Content  the  Author  shall  his  work  define. 

Who  asks  not  for  an  outward  mark  or  sign, 

To  scan  the  difference  in  the  "Mine  and  Thine/' 

Assured  that  when  the  river's  link  is  reached 
The  new  to-morrow  shall  to-day  out  shine. 

MY   LOST  LYRIC 

JN  dreamless  sleep  to  me  it  came, 

It  singing  itself  through  heart  and  brain, 
My  lyric  with  the  nameless  name, 
My  lyric  with  the  perfect  strain. 

It  sang  itself,  then  fled  afar,  — 

I  know  not  where,  I  know  not  how, 

I  only  know  like  wandering  star 

It  came  and  went,  but  it  is  not  now. 


92 


Ah  fleeting  words,  ye  left  with  me 
A  message  that  still  pulses  deep, 

For  in  your  phantom  ecstasy 
I  found  a  promise  I  may  keep. 

And  thus  my  nameless  lyric  sings, 
It  lives  and  sings  although  'tis  gone; 

Its  memory  a  whisper  brings 
Of  fairer  worth  than  all  my  song. 

MID-WINTER  WINDS 
In  Memoriam 

pRINCE  of  the  Father's  House,  thy  spirit  knew 

The  beam  that  lights  and  feeds  the  morning 
ray 

With  holy  message  of  Celestial  day, 
That  brings  to  earth  its  own  exalted  view 
Of  regions  where  the  psalms  of  peace  subdue 

The  stress  of  doubt  and  fear  ;  where  prayers 
allay 

The  pains  of  love,  and  show  the  heart  the  way 
To  that  high  Joy  He  gives  His  favored  few. 

Yet  conscious  of  the  glories  Death  hath  crowned 
I  weep  amid  the  leafless  boughs  this  hour, 

And  hear  the  sobbing  of  an  inward  wound, 
Mourning  the  absence  of  thy  noble  dower ; 

Know  less  the  calm  of  changeless  Deity, 

Apart  from  Him  because  less  near  to  Thee. 

THE  NEW  YEAR 

r^NCE  more  my  hands  a  jewel  bear ; 

No  mark  is  on  its  surface  fair, 
But  deep  within  its  heart  I  see 
A  single  word  —  Eternity. 


93 


MADISON  AT  SUNSET 
Q   MADISON:  the  Beautiful, 

Sweet  dream  of  all  that's  fair, 
Thy  gem  like  lakes,  thy  dimpled  hills, 

The  peace  thy  valleys  wear 
By  day  the  Sun  with  happy  glance, 

Dwells  lovingly  with  thee, 
By  night  the  Stars  thy  charms  enhance, 
The  Moon  adds  Majesty. 

But  who  that  sees  thy  skies  at  eve, 

And  watches  Day  depart, 
Fails  in  that  hour  one  hope  to  weave, 

Like  rose  bloom  in  the  heart, 
Or  plainly  hear,  like  thee,  aright 

Great  Nature's  undertone, 
And  in  thy  power  of  Beauty's  light 

Desire  to  keep  his  own. 

BEAUTY  IN  NATURE 
I 

S  all  this  beauty  made  for  man  alone, 
Are  there  no  other  eyes  that  view    these 
scenes, 
No   ears   to   know    what    "unheard    music" 

means, 

Receiving  harmonies  by  Seraphs  blown? 
No  hand  save  ours  to  cull  the  wild  flowers  sown 
So  freely  on  these  hillsides  and  ravines, 
Yea,   on  the  rock  where   dreaming   shadow 

leans, 
Or,  wakeful,  guards  yon  sunbeam  turned  to  stone. 

Our  eyes  are  holden,  and  the  larger  light 
Shall  not  be  won,  'till  safe  across  the  night 
Of  death  we  pass,  and  contemplate  the  morn, 
Where  all  earth's  subtler  mysteries  are  born; 

94 


Oh  that  at  last  it  may  be  mine  to  know 

The  sacred  hopes  that  from  these  visions  flow. 

II 
Perchance  it  may  be  then  vouchsafed  to  see 

Some  thought  embodied,   long  in   pain   sup- 
pressed 

Some  lofty  purpose  in  a  noble  breast, 
Tasting  at  last  the  poet's  ecstasy, 
And  conscious  of  its  own  supremacy; 

Some  holy  aspiration  here  addressed 

To  One  Great  Being,  by  the  soul  confessed 
In  moment  of  sublime  capacity. 

If  nature  can  our  highest  longings  take 
And  thus  transform,  bidding  a  spirit  wake' 
In  whom  they  live  and  people  this  fair  world, 
Or  show  some  deeper  message  here  unfurled, 
Then  may  the  poet's  heart  defy  neglect, 
Nor  feel  the  woe  of  earthly  efforts  wrecked. 

Ill 

Perhaps  a  lifted  veil  might  here  reveal 

Familiar  faces  of  the  long  ago, 

Eyes  downward  bent  upon  the  paths  below, 
Fond  hands  outstretched  in  warning  or  appeal, 
And  thus  a  power  mysterious  bid  us  feel, 

Although  we  saw  not,  neither  could  we  know, 

How  a  soft  answer  has  its  inward  flow, 
How  gain  and  guidance  o'er  our  senses  steal. 

Surely  to  scenes  like  these  the  Good  may  cling, 
And  to  beloved  spirits  blessing's  bring, 
Knowing  a  Higher  Life  the  more  secure, 
If  they  but  keep  earth's  altars  true  and  pure; 
And  where  could  holy  message  sound  so  clear, 
Or  human  heart  be  more  inclined  to  hear. 


95 


THE  COLOR  LINE 


Heart  of  Love,  on  Thee  we  call 
In  this  so  baleful  hour: 
Forgive  its  record!     Lest  we  fall 
Beneath  an  angry  power. 

Thy  Son's  best  gift  has  been  betrayed, 

Our  love  for  Him  denied; 
Our  lips  in  falsehood  now  degrade 

The  prayer  He  sanctified. 

For  did  not  He  "Our  Father"  say? 

Uniting  all  to  Thee; 
Shall  it  be  ours  to  curse  one  day 

Defaming  this,  His  plea? 

Who  dare  say  "Our"  and  yet  deny 

Its  right  to  any  soul! 
The  right  that  makes  my  sister's  cry 

As  sacred  as  my  own. 

O  God,  so  bid  me  know  Thy  grace, 

I  dare  say  unto  Thee, 
When  Thou  from  her  canst  turn  Thy  Face, 

Thou  turnst  it,  too,  from  me. 

Where  she's  denied,  how  can  I  go, 
How  can  I  there  find  Thee? 

And  where  she  is,  my  love  must  show, 
How  Heaven  is  won  for  me. 


SONNETS 


MAN  AND  NATURE 

I 

Nature  keeps  her  final  harmony; 
It  speaks  in  distant  sun,  in  simplest  flower, 
As  though  through  all  some  spirit  did  embower 
With  light  and  love  its  own  intensity, 
Or  guard,  unchanged,  some  inner  melody, 
Where  life  to  life  reveals  a  priceless  dower, 
That,  interblending,  gives  to  earth  the  power 
To  make  a  perfect  whole  in  unity. 

In  sympathy  with  this,  the  soul  receives 

Her  share,  and  answers  clearly  joy  for  joy; 
Alas!  not  so  with  man.     The  spirit  grieves, 

Finding  how  he  his  fellow  man  pursues; 
How  man  for  man  can  every  trace  destroy 
Of  the  great  link  he  should  be  last  to  lose. 

II 

War,  rapine,  murder,  lust,  oppression,  pain, 

These  and  their  thousand  ills  inclusive  are 
In  the  foul  lists  that  do  so  grimly  mar, 

Or  leave  upon  God's  work  its  darkest  stain, 

Forcing  a  living  death  without  death's  gain, 

The  night  of  earth  without  its  moon  or  star, 
The  things  that  keep  Hell  near  and  Heaven 
afar, — 

O  God!  how  long,  how  long  must  these  remain? 

'Some  soul  of  goodness  in  things  evil  lies,' 

One  said,  who  knew  of  earth  the  worst,  the  best; 
Yet  even  his  so  all-revealing  eyes, 

Yea,  even  his  all-pleading  human  prayer, 
But  deepens  to  our  thought  one  bitter  quest, 
Nor  lightens  for  our  hearts  one  deep  despair 


99 


Ill 

Another  spoke  with  love-illumined  sight; 

But  all  the  burdened  birthright  of  His  soul 

Won  Him  at  last  a  thorn-pierced  aureole; 
Yet  from  His  far  enfranchised  gaze  the  light 
Still  streams,  and  with  its  deathless,  potent  might 

Pervades  the  darkness,  that   without   would 
roll 

And   in   some   quenchless   horror   steep   the 

whole; 
With  denser  fold  injure  and  mar  the  Right. 

Is  God  less  God  because  these  things  are  so; 

Or  shall  He  from  the  abysmal  womb  of  Time 
Bring  forth  some  seed  to  work  their  overthrow? 

The  seed  is  in  ourselves;  if  here  it  fail 
To  yield  its  fruitage,  want  its  perfect  prime. 
The  gates  of  Hell  against  us  must  prevail. 

CECIL  RHODES 

ITNIGHT  errant  of  a  day  too  long  delayed! 

Whilst  thou  from  royal  soul  revealest  now 
A  Light  that  covers  all  thou  canst  endow 

With  Gift  the  gods  do  not  permit  to  fade  ; 

Shall  it  be  ours  to  ask  that  it  persuade 
The  Star  born  beam,  Death  placed  upon  thy  brow, 
To  be  the  fair  renown  to  which  we  bow 

When  Love  to  life  its  last  recital  made? 

Wake  Mighty  One !  and  hear  our  louder  praise. 

We  chant  it  whenso'er  we  say  thy  name. 

Speak  it!  It  holds  imperial  Rights  of  fame, 
Guards  well  the  Power  that  gives  immortal  days, 
Keeps  down  the  sob  of  nature,  makes  men  dear, 
And  stands  for  Ruler,  Poet,  Priest,  and  Seer. 


100 


DAWN         v/>\LJr  V 
I 

more  the  miracle  is  wrought  on  high; 
Light  breaks;  the  east  a  speechless  glory  wears; 
A  bride  resplendent  comes,  as  one  who  bears 
The  symbol  of  a  love  that  cannot  die 
For  her  the  emblazoned  splendor  of  the  sky 

Makes  pale  the  stars;  and  peaceful  night  now 

dares 

Question  her  peace,  as  one  who  unawares 
Discerning  strength  not  theirs,  ends  breath  with 
sigh. 

And  yet,  O  Dawn!  perchance  thou  art  to-night 
A. golden  ending,  not  a  bride  to  morn. 
Whiche'er  it  be,  thy  unheard  melody 
Fills  all  the  world;  while  to  our  upturned  sight 
The  Unseen  Hand  that  can  thy  light  adorn 
Guards  well  the  sacred  secret  hid  in  thee. 

II 

And,  gazing  thus,  I  think  of  those  who  wait 

For  thee  with  longing  heart  and  weary  brain; 
Of  lonely  watchers  by  the  couch  of  pain; 

Of  those  for  whom  thy  glory  comes  too  late; 

Of  some  in  prison  cells,  waiting  their  fate; 

Of  some  who  look  from  clouded  eyes,  and  strain 
To  catch  some  meaning  that  may  yet  contain 

A  glimpse  beyond,  and  all  its  hope  translate. 

And  so  through  all  thy  beauty  comes  earth's  moan, 
Its  restlesness,  its  long  repressed  desire, 

The  mournful  witness  of  an  undertone 
That  saddens  hearts  however  they  aspire; 

O  Thou  who  canst  from  night  all  shade  divest, 

Send  Thou  Thy  Dawn  to  souls  that  are  oppressed. 

101 


THE  OLD  YEAR 

I 
COON  with  the  multitudes  thou  too  shalt  sleep; 

Would  I  dare  hope  no  day  of  thine  would  rise, 

In  ghostly  semblance  come,  without  disguise, 
To  haunt  the  senses,  and  in  anguish  steep 
The  soul,  that  it  some  cruel  past  may  reap; 

See  the  false  seeming,  fair  to  outward  eyes; 

Hear  the  stilled  moaning,  that  yet  never  dies, 
But  feeds  to  fulness  thoughts  for  tears  too  deep. 

Such  hope  is  vain;  then  Death  has  one  sting  less; 
For  who  can  count  the  years  in  happiness 
Secure  in  this,  and  in  this  woe  alone, 
That  ever  each  must  add  unto  life's  moan? 
If  time  to  come  keeps  this  in  memory  nigh, 
Let  God  be  kind,  and  let  death  mean — to  die! 

II 

What  poisoned  chalice  to  my  lips  finds  way 

That  thus  I  utter  thoughts  so  dread  with  fear, 
The  hope  defy  that  is  of  all  most  dear, 

Shut  fast  the  door  to  all  that  bids  men  pray? 

Thus  make  a  sword  of  life  to  pierce  the  ray 
Of  righteousness,  thus  stand  in  sad  arrear 
With  all  that  brings  the  wished-for  succor  near, 

The  balm  destroy  that  can  such  wounds  allay? 

To  barter  thus  with  life  is  death  indeed, 

A  living  death  that  only  demons  feed; 

Oh,  rather  let  imagination  bring 

The  shining  glory  and  the  choirs  that  sing! 

Unless  great  faith,  thus  crowned,  have  perfect  sway, 

The  soul  is  dead,  and  man  but  breathing  clay. 


103 


Ill 

Up,  then,  O  Soul !  arise,  and  bring  to  earth 
The  shining  glory  and  the  singing  choir; 
Though  it  be  legend  framed  of  man's  desire, 

Yet  is  it  witness  of  immortal  birth; 

Let  gloomy  doubt  and  fear  give  place  to  mirth, 
Let  loyal  hope  the  song  of  joy  inspire, 
With  angel  musings  touch  anew  the  lyre, 

And  thine  own  vision  Heaven  itself  engirth. 

Thus  as  the  old  year  passes  into  night, 
Look  up  to  find  your  stars  securely  bright, 
And  in  the  new  day  see  the  sun  appear 
As  full  of  splendor,  and  with  beam  as  clear, 
As  though  no  darkness  intervened  to  say 
' Behold  how  night  is  still  the  tomb  of  day.' 


EASTER 

1P[AD  I  been  with  the  two  who  walked  that  day 

As  on  the  road  to  Emmaus  He  passed, 
Their  thoughts  bewildered,  and  wild  shades  fell 

fast, 

Their  eyes  yet  holden  to  the  star-lit  way, 
Should  I,  near  home,  have  asked  Him  then  to  stay, 
And  as  He  broke  the  bread  discern  at  last 
The  Christ,  or,  when  aside  all  fear  was  cast, 
Receive  the  Easter  blessing  as  did  they? 

Oh,  question  not,  faint  heart,  but  find  Him  there  ; 
The  road  is  open  and  He  walks  it  still ; 

Hears  human  love  yet  whisper  all  its  plea, 
Sends  Holy  Spirit  when  it  breathes  its  prayer ; 
With  Easter  light  will  evening  shadows  fill, 
And, while  abiding,  break  His  bread  with  thee, 


103 


WINTER 

I 
YV71NTER,  with  all  thy  glorious  majesty, 

And  partnership  with  Spring,  whose  trust- 
ful sleep 

Thou  guardest  that  she  may  thy  vigil  reap, 
And  prove  the  fulness  of  thy  harmony, 
Amid  thy  most  tempestuous  gales  I  see 

How  like  a  sovereign  thou  cans't  hold  and  keep 
Not  Spring  alone,  but  Summer's  promise  deep, 
And  covered  with  a  robe  of  purity. 

'T  is  fitting  season  for  thy  birthday,  Love; 

It  symbolizes  all  thy  strength  and  power; 
Yet  is  there  in  my  soul  one  light  above 

All  that  its  patient  wisdom  can  embower; 
For  here  the  Spring  and  Summer's  fruitage  meet, 
And  thus  a  triple  song  of  praise  repeat. 

II 

The  Autumn  with  its  splendor,  it  remains, 
Chanting  its  message  of  supreme  uplift; 
Has  it  no  portion  in  thy  radiant  gift, 

Showing  its  beauty  and  its  well  won  gains? 

Yes,  yes,  this  too  in  glory  lives  and  reigns 
Within  thy  heart,  whose  inner  currents  drift 
Where   one   great  Heart  doth  all  their  meaning 
sift, 

Rejoicing  in  the  strength  thy  life  attains. 

From  thence,  beloved,  with  His  glance  divine 
Resting  upon  the  good  thy  days  enshrine, 
Even  as  it  rests  on  Autumn  ac  its  height, 
Illuming  all  things  with  enriching  light, 
This,  this,  in  love  thou  dost  on  me  bestow, 
And  prove  His  power  in  sovereign  overflow. 


104 


TO  CYNTHIA 

A  S  when  at  eve  the  moon  in  splendor  shines 

Upon  a  cloud,  and  forms  a  halo  there, 
Within  its  lambent  and  caressing  air, 

And  thus  in  warmth  its  light  incarnadines, 

And  when  such  visions  all  the  soul  inclines 
To  pause,  and  whisper  an  impassioned  prayer, 
As  though  it  saw  beyond  the  scene  so  fair, 

The  deeper  glow  that  Seraphim  enshrines,  — 

Thus,  O  my  Moon,  thy  love  falls  on  my  heart, 
And  there  creates  the  halo  and  the  gleam, 
The  azure  loveliness,  the  silent  thought 
That  does  to  prayer  such  sacredness  impart, 
As  from  thyself  I  feel  the  placid  beam 

That  is  with  holiness  and  peace  enwrought. 

THE  MESSAGE  OF  THE  ROSE 

A  MONG  the  flowers, — where  all  are  found  so  fair, 
So  beautiful,  one,  more  than  all  the  rest, 
Is  swayed  and  held  by  Beauty's  high  behest 
Breathing  to  every  wind  and  passing  air, 
A  loveliness  complete  beyond  compare, 

Supplying  to  the  heart's  continued  quest, 
A  satisfaction  born  of  what  is  best, 
Awaking  thought  of  vision  still  more  rare 

O  flower,  go!  and  tell  to  her  I  prize, 
That  when  I  liken  her  to  thee,  I  know 

Of  depths  within  her  deep  and  lustrous  eyes, 
Of  glories  hidden  where  her  virtues  glow, 

That  cannot  fade  as  thou,  nor  know  the  days 

When  Love  shall  cease,  or  fail  to  sing  her  praise 


EVENING  ON  LAKE  MONONA 

TPlIE  summer's  affluent  beauty  crowns  the  night; 
Flowers  and  fragrance  are  on  every  side; 
The  moon,  arising  as  a  joyous  bride, 
The  water  seeks  and  chastens  with  love's  light; 
While  happy  souls,  enraptured  with  the  sight, 
Find  here  no  human  sense  its  best  denied; 
Entrancing  melodies  on  soft  airs  glide, 
And  hearts  reponsive  hold  the  vision  bright. 

If  types  we  get  in  this  fair  world  of  ours, 
Dim  foretaste  of  the  good  that  is  to  be, 

Then  surely  does  the  charm  this  night  embowers 
Feed  deep  the  longing  for  eternity: 

For  still  the  only  pang  its  hours  can  send 

Is  the  sad  consciousness  that  it  must  end. 


MOUNT  DESERT 

\X/"ITHIN  her  island  home  she  sits  enthroned, 
Imperial  mistress  of  earth's  fairest  dower, 
All  held  and  swayed  with  a  resistless  power; 
No  beauty  that  the  world  can  give  disowned, 
The  skies'  entrancing  splendor  freely  loaned 

To  mountain,  sea,  and  shore,    each   fleeting 

hour, 

While  she  its  larger  good  can  still  embower, 
And  hear  its  grander  melodies  intoned. 

Fair  Empress,  when  within  thy  temple  gates 
Thy  glory  to  my  soul  one  thought  translates; 
And,  gazing  on  thy  scenes,  God's  'Very  good,' 
Becomes  the  more  completely  understood  ; 
I  feel  secure  the  hope  He  had  in  man, 
Since  He  for  man's  possession  thus  could  plan. 


DANTE 
IF  more,  like  thee,  who  into  hell  descend, 

Could  bring  its  mighty  meanings  back  to  men, 

Proclaiming  them  with  trumpet  tone,  and  pen 

Dipped  in  heart's  blood,  with  echoing  moans  that 

rend 
The  lifeless  air,  show  horrors  that  attend 

Sin's  punishment,  —  oh,  would  some  sunrise 

then 

Clear  off  the  stagnant  waters  of  life's  fen  ? 
To  shaded  way  some  surer  signal  lend? 

Something  that  should  withstay  the  wavering  feet 
Before  they  too  the  Charon  passage  meet, 
And  reach  the  soul  that  struggles  to  be  freed, 
Answering  to  the  cry  of  human  need  ? 
Ah,  Poet  wise,  if  message  like  thine  own 
Be  not  enough,  the  heart  is  turned  to  stone. 

THE  BIRTHDAY  OF  BURNS 
(~)F  what  avail  are  birthdays  unto  thee, 

O  poet  of  the  fadeless  life  and  song  ! 
Our  earthly  years  can  but  thy  youth  prolong, 
And  death  from  death  did  only  set  thee  free, 
Exchanging  earth  bonds  for  God's  liberty  ; 

Naught  can  Time  steal,  and  in  naught  can  he 

wrong, 

For  Love  and  Time  build  only  to  make  strong 
The  temple  that  resounds  thy  minstrelsy. 

But  if  our  lives  should  bring  some  truer  tone 

Caught  from  the  music  of  thy  mighty  heart, 

That  never  could  one  human  cry  disown, 
That  felt  itself  of  every  pulse  a  part, 

If  this  were  ours  to  offer  year  by  year, 

Eyes  were  less  holden  when  The  Christ  is  near. 


107 


BESIDE  A  POET'S  GRAVE 
"T^OES  the  true  melody  thy  life  controlled, 

Find  sweeter  echo  in  some  happier  sphere, 
A  music  of  the  heart  you  know  not  here? 
Do  seraphs  whisper  strains  to  earth  untold, 
Or  show  to  thee  where  melodies  behold 

Their  birth?     And  to  thy  raptured  ear 
Bring  consolation  that  can  banish  fear, 
Laden  with  songs  their  joys  alone  unfold? 

All  may  be  thine.     Yet  standing  here  to-day, 
I  think  if  still  thy  lips  have  power  to  pray, 
I  hear  them  plead  for  strength  to  labor  on 
In  the  home  path  made  sacred  by  thy  song, 
For  what  hath  God  Himself  to  guard  or  care 
Thou  would'st  not  wish  thy  fellow  men  to  share. 

OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES 

November,  1894. 
OT  dead,  not  even  sleeping  is  he  now, 

Our  honored  bard,  whom  all  our  race  reveres; 
In  true  and  fuller  glory  he  appears, 
A  crown  of  his  own  sunshine  on  his  brow. 
Transfigured  is  he  on  the  Mount.     We  bow, 

Catching  from  there  his  smile.      See  what  en- 
dears 

With  clearer  vision.     Banish  thence  the  fears; 
Feel  with  new  zest  his  charm  each  sense  endow. 

Then,  coming  back  from  this  celestial  height, 
With  chilling  thought  that  earth  has  something 

lost, 
We  now  recall,  that  air  that's  tinged  with  frost 

Still  makes  the  rosy  flush  of  dawn  more  bright. 

Dawn-like,  O  Master,  was  thy  gift  while  here, 

Dawn-like  we  keep  it  till  the  day  appear. 

1 08 


WORDSWORTH 
T    IKE  some  great  mountain  peak  wherefrom  the 

day 

Proclaims  the  sun,  or  where  at  mellow  eve 
He  lingers  dreamful,  while  our  eyes  perceive 
An  aureole,  as  though  angels  knelt  to  pray; 
And  restful  as  the  quiet  paths  that  stray 

About  the  mountain's  base,  where  flowers  in- 
weave 

Their  garments,  and  the  summer  breezes  leave 
Their  sighs,  when  all  earth's  tumults  die  away. 

Like  all  things  lofty,  always  lowly  wise, 
Divine  in  simpleness,  in  reach  sublime, 

A  reverence  so  great  for  Nature's  wound 
As  owns  its  love,  and  thus  earth's  ill  defies, 
Or  learns  through  ill  Olympian  heights  to  climb, 
With  heart  attuned  to  every  thought  profound. 

KEATS 

BY  sun-swept  harmonies  thy  song  was  fed, 
O  poet  of  the  music-moving  strain, 
Rising  to  ecstasy  above  life's  pain, 

And  dwelling  where  all  hymnic  beauty  led; 

Hyperion  to  thee  in  his  chariot  sped; 

He  robed  thee  in  a  garment  without  stain, 
Embroidered  with  the  lilies  of  the  plain, 

And  wove  a  crown  of  glory  for  thy  head. 

All  this  life  gave  thee.     What  did  death  secure? 
A  name  in  water  writ,  fair,  clear  and  pure, 
Jewelled  in  loveliness,  crystalled  in  tears, 
Flashing  its  rainbow  light  across  the  years; 
In  hearts  that  live,  a  record  and  a  place 
The  waters  of  the  earth  cannot  efface. 


109 


WASHINGTON 

TN  all  the  land  one  object  I  behold; 

A  lofty  height  with  pure  and  spotless  crest, 
Always  snow-crowned,  yet  too  near  heaven  for  cold, 

The  sunlight  ever  finding  there  its  rest; 
Within  its  great  heart  mighty  streams  are  born, 

And  onward  flow,  through  valleys  hushed  from 

strife, 
Their  touch  awakening  flowers  that  adorn 

Wide,  fertile  plains,  where  all  things  tell  of  life. 

Toward  it  the  weak  may  turn,  and  learn  aright 
The  strength  and  courage  that  can  fearless  be 

In  face  of  storm  severe,  by  day,  by  night, 
Serene  and  strong  'mid  all  adversity. 

O  Good  and  Great!  the  mount  is  type  of  thee, 

Who  lived  and  taught  the  Freedom  that  makes  free. 


LINCOLN 

TN  all  the  heaven  one  object  holds  my  gaze, 

Compelling  witness  of  a  reverent  heart. 
And  ever,  as  I  look,  increased  amaze 

That  mighty  soul  does  to  my  soul  impart. 
It  bids  me  see  in  every  clime  and  race 

The  common  bond  that  makes  the  world  akin, 
To  find  the  fatherhood  in  every  face; 

To  feel  the  love  that  brotherhood  should  win. 

With  malice  none — with  charity  for  all, 
It  led  a  nation  in  its  darkest  hour, 

As  though  in  silence  it  heard  but  the  call 

Of  Him  who  sent  His  own  divinest  power. 

O  Son  of  sons!  all  time  to  come  will  scan 

Thy  wondrous  soul  and  cry,  "Behold  the  Man!" 


no 


LUCIUS  FAIRCHILt) 

t-I  E  gave  us  that  which  is  not  bought  or  sold, 

Nor  seemed  to  know  the  measure  of  his  gift, 
Nor  how  its  wondrous  bounty  could  uplift, 

And  into  nobler  manhood  make  and  mould; 

Thus  did  his  greatness  and  his  heart  enfold 

All  human  need,  and  still  without  unthrift 
Expend;  taking  no  thought  to  weigh  or  sift 

All  that  in  each  less  friendly  eyes  behold. 

Earth  gives  her  types  of  all  that  is  to  be 

Eternal  in  its  worth  unto  the  soul; 
In  him  we  saw  the  perfect  symmetry 

That  harmonizes  and  suggests  the  whole; 
But  in  his  friendship  rare  we  felt  the  spring 
Of  every  good  that  earth  and  time  can  bring. 

HORACE  HOWARD  FURNESS 

After  hearing  him  read  one  of  Shakespeare's  dramas. 

COME  seasons  come  to  human  life  and  thought 
That  build  'great  bases  for  eternity;' 
That  leave  an  unimagined  melody 

Sounding  from  mountain  tops  before  unsought; 

And  when  such  gift  unto  the  soul  is  brought, 
Through  well-appointed  human  ministry, 
Then  has  it  new  increase  of  sanctity, 

And  keeps  itself  henceforth  in  life  enwrought. 

'Tis  so  it  comes  when  Nature,  one  with  Art, 
Finds  true  interpreter  in  poet's  heart; 
All  fair  'mid-summer  glory  now  is  theirs, 
While  each  its  royal  wedding  garment  shares; 
Thus  is  the  Eucharistic  feast  supplied, 
And  the  great  Master's  labor  glorified. 


in 


ONE  WHOSE  'PRICE  IS  ABOVE  RUBIES' 

AY,  priceless  above  all  that  earth  bestows, 

Companion,  mother,  counsellor,  and  friend, 
On  whom  the  angels  day  by  day  descend, 
To  bring  the  blessing  whose  enchanting  glow 
Lights  all  the  good  thy  loved  ones  share  and  know; 
Through  thee  we  learn  how  God  to  earth  doth 

send 
Those  gifts  that  with  His  own  great  nature 

blend, 
And  how  the  earth-life  gives  them  place  to  grow; 

We  see  a  deeper  meaning  in  the  line 
'The  Lord  is  with  thee,'   as  His  soul  divine 
Leads  us  with  thee  to  many  a  sacred  feast, 
Where  thine  own  heart  discerns  of  want  the  least, 
And  thine  own  whisper  wins  from  Eye  benign 
The  glance  that  changes  water  into  wine. 

A  HUMAN  HAND 

TT  made  and  unmade  destinies  of  men, 
Built  and  destroyed  the  monuments  of  Time, 
Pointed  the  path  where  worthy  thought  sublime 

Finds  voiceful  form  in  prayer  and  deed  and  pen; 

Brought  light  and  peace  to  captive  souls,  and  then 
Removed  the  darkness  of  a  buried  clime; 
Kept  poet-heart  awake  in  deathless  rhyme, 

Clasped  love  as  father,  friend,  and  citizen. 

As  cold  in  death  we  hold  it  in  our  own, 

We  ask  our  hearts,  Where  now  its  noble  life? 
The  answer  comes  above  its  dust  to-day, — 
Ruling  a  kingdom  from  earth's  loftiest  throne, 
For  here,  beyond  all  cavil,  toil,  or  strife, 
It  keeps  and  guards  all  that  it  gave  away. 


112 


TO  THE  MORNING  GLORY 

TN  royal  vesture  clad  to  greet  the  sun, 

The  Dawn  in  love  beholds  thee,  gentle  flower, 
And  adds  unto  thy  heritage  her  dower, 

As  though  renewing  vows  for  favors  won. 

Oh,  did  she  say  to  thee,  thy  life  begun, 
It  still  should  be  thy  glory  to  embower 
The  lowliest  spot  with  beauty's  fadeless  power, 

Content  to  leave  it  all  when  day  is  done? 

All  things  their  Morning  keep  awhile,  as  thou, 
But  unto  thee  in  all  thy  modest  light 
Is  given  symbol  of  a  nobler  right, — 
No  Morrow  hast  thou,  and  no  Yesterday  ; 
Who  would  not  wish  to  live  like  thee,  and  pray 

For  place  like  thine  in  the  Eternal  Now. 


IN  ABSENCE 
DAYS  in  sunlit  land,  from  home  so  far, 


One  day  among  ye  marks  my  dear  Love's  birth, 
A  feast  day  in  my  heart,  without  its  mirth, 
Since  absence  must  my  fairest  visions  mar, 
Obscure  my  sunrise,  and  my  evening  star, 

Leave  wistful,  eastward  glance  o'er  all  the  earth, 
And  whisper  to  my  heart  a  present  dearth 
That  furrows  deep  one  baleful,  paining  scar. 

Beloved,  as  I  mourn  I  turn  to  thee, 

Strong  in  thine  uncomplaining  constancy; 

Nothing  can  separate  the  soul  from  soul, 

And  Love  may  birthday  keep,  complete  and  whole, 

Yea,  holy, — but  it  cannot  banish  space, 

It  finds  me  sobbing  for  one  well-loved  face. 


SILENCE 
TPHOU  dost  touch  us  in  life's  profoundest  hours, 

Kiss  us  in  moments  of  exalted  need, 
Caress  us  closest  when  we,  voiceless,  heed 
The  gifts  that  are  enshrouded  in  thy  powers. 
Portion  of  God !     Thy  softened  light  embowers, 
Yea,  holds  the  open  door,  whose  portals  lead 
Wherever  thought  enshrines  itself  in  deed, 
Where  birth  and   death    bear  their  enfranchised 
dowers. 

Yet  yielding  art  thou  most  to  breath  of  love, 
It  is  in  thee  it  finds  eternal  bloom 

(With  Love    and    Silence  what  may  we  not 

know!) 

'T  is  Love  at  last  finds  thee  a  sheltering  dove, 
And,  nestling  in  thy  wings,  in  vaster  room, 
Goes  with  thee  fearless  whither  thou  dost  go. 

TO  A  MOTHER 

Who  wrote  under  her  children's  picture  *  These  are  my 
Poems' 

poems  to  immortal  beauty  born 
Are  thine,  O  mother  beautiful  and  fair, 
Verse  written  by  God's  hand,  in  witness  rare, 
Of  all  that  may  His  deeper  thought  adorn, 
To  prove  the  freshness  of  celestial  morn ; 

They  unto  thee  His  whispered  message  bear 
In  ways  with  which  no  other  can  compare, 
Are  never  unto  lover's  heart  outworn. 

This  is  the  poetry  that  never  dies, 
But  to  the  heart  undying  song  supplies, 
That  makes  the  barren  place  produce  the  rose, 
And  unto  love  its  secrets  best  disclose, 
Giving  to  human  face  the  Father's  light, 
And  to  His  praise  our  lesser  strains  unite. 

114 


TO   A    FRIEND 
Who  sent  a  vase  of  roses 

O  what  have  I  not  likened  thee,  O  friend  ? 

To  the  blest  sunbeam  that  secures  the  day, 
To  placid  loveliness  of  moonlit  ray, 
To  all  that  Nature  and  God's  love  doth  send 
To  guard  life's  sacred  portals,  and  defend 

The  soul's  best  hope ;   to  hour  when  angels 

pray, 

To  tranquil  lights  that  fiercest  storms  allay ; 
To  those  who  on  Christ's  *  little  ones '  attend. 

And  now  thy  gracious  gift  adds  one  thing  more 
Unto  my  heart's  already  bounteous  store ; 
Thy  restful  beauty  fallen  on  the  rose 
Makes  every  flower  a  dearer  life  disclose ; 
Ah,  the  Eternal  Soul  breathes  deep  in  thee, 
And  all  things  fair  reflect  thy  ministry. 

TO  THE  AUTHOR  OF  SONGS  OF  NIGHT 

AND  DAY 
U  O W  does  the  poet  aught  of  night  reveal  ? 

Is  it  not  ever  day  deep  in  his  heart  ? 
Has  not  some  portion  of  its  light  a  part 
And  place  within  his  soul  naught  can  conceal  ? 
Yea,  from  the  night  itself  does  he  not  steal 

A  beam  as  sure  and  strong  as  lightning  dart 
That  bids  the  deepest  sign  of  darkness  start, 
The  purest  ray  of  vision  own  and  feel  ? 

Ay,  noble  poet  of  the  Song  of  Night, 

The  day  is  thine,  it  shines  in  every  thought, 

All  luminous,  and  like  a  summer's  light 

When  it  with  beauty  of  the  morn  is  wrought ; 

Or  if  the  night  is  touched  by  thee  it  glows, 

The  radiance  of  eternal  starlight  shows. 

"5 


TO   A   BEAUTIFUL    CHILD 

ALL  love's  religion,  with  its  light  and  quest, 

Should  now  be  mine,  to  sing  thy  praises,  dear ; 
For  all  that  is  of  worth  came  with  you  here ; 
Great  Nature  gave  her  truest  and  her  best, 
Her  own  praise  singing  at  thy  sweet  behest, 
Bestowing  every  good  afar  or  near, 
Yea,  yielding  without  shadow  of  a  fear 
All  beauties  born  in  her  great-hearted  breast. 

If  then  my  pen  could  catch  one  dimpling  smile, 
Keep  but  one  glance  of  thy  so-lustrous  eyes, 
Seize  one  stray  gleam  of  gold  from  out  thy 

hair, 
And  weave  into  its  verse  thyself  the  while, 

The  world  would  then  read  on  in  glad  surprise, 
And  praise  would  then  be  mine  beyond  com- 
pare! 

THE    PROMISE 
HE  sunset  falls  upon  the  land  to-night, 

With  all  its  wonted  splendor,  joy,  and  peace, 
No  whisper  that  the  glow  can  ever  cease 
In  one  fair  hope  concealed  within  its  light ; 
The  stars  appear,  and  on  the  heavens  write 
An  added  promise,  with  the  day's  release  ; 
And  thus  the  darkness  can  itself  increase 
The  faith  that  lives  behind  all  human  sight. 

Yet,  standing  near  thy  new-made  grave,  O  friend, 
It  is  not  from  these  scenes  I  gain  in  trust ; 

If  this  were  all,  my  heart  must  still  attend 

The  sentence,   *  Earth  to  earth  and  dust  to 
dust ' ; 

But,  thinking  of  thy  soul,  through  all  the  space 

I  hear,  'Thy  servants,  Lord,  shall  see  Thy  face/ 

116 


TO  THE  TEACHER  ON  HIS  BIRTHDAY 

T    ET  other  men  count  time  by  days,  by  years, 
To  thee  belongs  another,  grander  way, 
And  one  that  shall  more  fittingly  obey 

The  high  command  of  all  that  life  reveres. 

Count  it  by  the  memory  that  endears 

Thy  labor ;    by  the  heart  throbs  that  so  sway 
Our  pulses,  as  we  meet  round  thee  to-day, 

And  own  a  gratitude  'too  deep  for  tears.' 

We  count  it  by  the  seed  thy  work  has  sown, 
We  mark  it  on  that  radiant  vesture  wrought 

To  bury  ignorance,  and  seal  its  tomb ; 
We  read  it  where  great  wisdom  rears  her  throne, 
And  in  the  majesty  of  that  fair  thought 

That  makes  the  barren  place  know  fadeless 
bloom. 


THE  EDUCATOR 

HpHERE  are  those  kings  whom  men  in  state  still 
crown 

With  earthly  trappings  of  great  pomp  and  might ; 

The  dazzling  fashion  of  a  day's  delight, 
Subject  alike  to  unearned  smile  and  frown  ; 
And  there  are  those  who  claim  not  earth's  renown, 

Yet  wear  it  with  an  all  unconscious  right; 

Yea,  crowned  and  glorified,  in  all  men's  sight, 
They  bear  aloft  a  torch  no  seas  can  drown. 

For  these,  by  sovereign  gift  from  King  of  kings, 
Know  the  full  meaning  of  the  Voice  that  said 
«  Let  there  be  light ; '  are  by  its  choral  led, 

And,  climbing  heights  where  its  best  mandate  rings, 
Bid  those  who  follow  see  the  vision  blest, 
Until  within  God's  hand  their  own  is  pressed 


BACCALAUREATE  SUNDAY 
l^AREWELL  !  your  heart  to    mine   conveys    the 

thrill 

Of  restless  thought,  of  new  untried  desires  ; 
The  sun  itself  has  not  more  burning  fires, 
Or  seeks  the  more  a  purpose  to  fulfil 
Than  ye,  who  with  youth's  strength  and  dauntless 

will, 

Look  longingly  toward  noon  ;  see  distant  spires 
Answering  to  music  of  celestial  choirs, 
Your  fair  hope  faithful  to  its  promise  still. 

Oh,  reverently  go,  as  into  vale 

Sacred  to  rising  day  !     With  rainbow  light 
Its  storms  illume  !     Touch  firm  and  sure  the 

sod 

Of  earth  ;  yet  towering  heights  beyond  assail 
And  win  !  Make  darkness  by  your  being  bright, 
And  prove  yourselves  in  partnership  with  God. 

EMPEROR  AND  MARTYR 

TN  purple  and  fine  linen,  Caesar  stands; 

Imperial  power  in  gesture,  word,  and  tone, 
In  beauty  like  a  God  upon  a  throne, 

Though    nothing   Godlike   breathes   in    his  com- 
mands. 

Before  him  one  in  prison  garb,  whose  sands 
Are  nearly  run,  now  doomed  to  go  alone 
To  fearful  death;  and  though  he  makes  no  moan, 

His  moaning  followers  weep  in  many  lands. 

The  first  knew  all  that  earthly  pomp  can  give, 
The  other  suffered  all  that  life  bestows; 

To  whom  belongs  the  truest  right  to  live? 
Which  name  with  greater  influence  overflows? 

Each  called  of  God, — how  did  each  meet  His  call, 

The  Emperor  Nero,  and  the  martyr  Paul? 

118 


WASHINGTON'S  BIRTHDAY 
PlMES    are   there  in  our  land  when    the  great 

gift, 

By  the  world's  heroes  striven  for  and  won, 
Seems  by  the  lust  of  vandals  quite  undone; 
When  Liberty  herself  cannot  uplift 
The  seething  mass  of  fetid  soils  that  drift, 

And  make  the  darkness  plain  upon  her  sun; 
Thus  fear  and  doubt  our  hope  assail;  we  shun 
Our   faith,    or  cry   'Come,  Lord,    with   vengeance 
swift!' 

O  Mighty  Leader!  then  we  think  of  thee, 

Fearless  in  that  dread  hour  that  saw  no  light, 

We  hear  thy  sovran  voice,  with  Saviour  tone, 
And  now,  such  strength  hath  thy  sublimity, 
We  see  the  cloud's  true  meaning  from  thy  height, 
And  find  thy  presence  still  on  Freedom's  throne. 

THE  ARTIST 

TS  it  to  toil  with  cunning  hand  and  brain 
To  make  a  canvas  live,  a  picture  speak, 
The  master's  touch  reveal,  or,  failing,  seek 

By  stronger  effort  to  change  loss  to  gain  ? 

Or  is  it  still  to  labor  to  obtain 

Some  dazzling  prize,  that,  like  a  lofty  peak, 
Sun-crowned,    but    tends    to  make  the  gazer 
meek, 

By  proving  heights  he  cannot  yet  attain  ? 

'Tis  well  to  struggle ;  noble  to  aspire ; 

Though  art  is  long,  and  life  too  swiftly  sped, 
For  longing  souls  with  but  one  high  desire 

Are  from  divinest  sources  surely  fed ; 
But  he  is  artist,  teacher,  and  high  priest, 
Who,  in  revealing  self,  supplies  a  feast. 

119 


A  GOLDEN  WEDDING 

COMETHING  of  Eden's  golden  hour  remains 
Our  earth  to   bless.     Tis   found   in   golden 

days, 
When  beauty  adds  to  light  a  softened  haze, 

Revealing  all  our  universe  contains 

As  though  it  were  a  bride,  whose  blushing  gains 
A  deeper  charm  because  her  blush  betrays 
To  Love  love's  secret,  while  her  artless  ways 

Beguile  his  sense  and  win  his  sweetest  strains. 

But  holy  is  this  golden  hour  when  found 
In  human  lives  made  beautiful  by  years 

Of  faithful  love,  and  two  true  hearts  are  bound 
As  one,  with  service  each  to  each  endears; 

For  such  may  golden  bells  of  earth  resound, 
And  Heaven's  smile  at  last  replace  earth's  tears. 


LOVE'S  YOUTH 

f   SAW  two  walking  in  a  forest  glade 

At  set  of  sun  ;  a  man  and  woman,  bent 
With  age;  the  fading  light  a  glory  lent 

To  all  things,  and  for  them  a  halo  made. 

Behind  them  came  two  lovelier  forms,  arrayed 
In  garb  of  long  ago ;  a  maiden  sent 
Of  God  to  walk  beside  a  youth,  prevent 

The  earth-soil,  keep  serene  and  undismayed. 

The  aged,  turning,  saw  the  vision,  knew 

It  was  themselves,  fair  shadows  of  the  past ; 

Saw  through  old  eyes  life's  chrism  and  its  dew  ; 
Felt  the  old  charm  that  can  its  source  outlast, 

Then  said,  *  'Tis  outward,  it  can  only  flee ; 

'Our  youth  is  safe  in  Love's  Eternity.' 


120 


LOVE'S  POWER 

OVE  seeks  in  myriad  ways  to  prove  the  power 

Of  love ;  it  searches  earth  and  air  and  sky 
For  one  fair  object  that  will  typify 
Its  matchless  and  imperishable  dower ; 
And  though  it  fail  love's  glory  to  embower, 

Since  naught  that  lives  can  with  its  essence  vie, 
Yet  is  it  sweet  to  let  some  tribute  lie, 
As  lies  the  dewdrop  on  the  breast  of  flower. 

Beloved,  like  a  star  that  crowns  the  night, 
Dissolving  in  transparence  all  the  gloom, 

Serenely  proving  an  unfailing  light, 

Whose  mystic  strength  all  shadows  can  illume, 

Oh,  this  is  like  thy  helpfulness  to  me ! 

If  aught  is  worth,  it  has  its  birth  in  thee. 


WHERE  LOVE  IS  THERE  IS  HARMONY 


cadence  falls  not  on  the  human  ear; 
Some  discord  mingles  ever  with  the  strain; 
The  melody  we  hoped  we  might  attain 
Eludes  us,  even  when  it  seems  most  near; 
The  note  of  Hope  ends  in  the  sigh    of  Fear; 
The  perfect  is  by  imperfection  slain; 
The  vulgar  hind  can  highest  good  arraign, 
Till  faith  lies  buried  in  an  open  bier. 

All  this  I  thought,  until  one  day  Love  came, 
And  lighted  all  my  path  with  gorgeous  flame; 
The  discord  now  in  melody  is  lost, 
All  fear  unto  the  passing  wind  is  tost; 
He  makes  such  music  in  my  soul  for  me, 
I  own  the  fountain  of  life's  harmony. 


TO  THE  MADONNA 
I 

V\7  HAT  thoughts  were  in  thy  heart,  O  Maiden 

fair, 

When  that  full  message  from  the  angel  came, 
That  should  bestow  on  thee  earth's  greatest 

name? 

What  strength  and  faith  didst  thy  young  soul  up- 
bear? 

On  what  transfiguring  height  didst  thou  breathe  air 
That  steadied  thee,  facing  thy  matchless  fame, 
Or,  gazing  into  heaven  with  thy  new  claim, 
Didst  thou  behold  from  earth  some  vision  rare? 

Ah!  sweet  it  is  to  know  thee,  woman  still, 
One  yielding  simply  to  the  Father's  will, 
Serenely  walking  ways  of  woe  and  strife, 
Nor  yet  beholding  all  the  hidden  life, 
But  conscious  whatsoever  way  is  trod, 
The  son  of  man  is  also  Son  of  God. 

II 
All  restful,  too,  that  in  His  time  and  place, 

Thou  shalt  in  peace  all  wished-f  or  blessing  share, 
His  diadem  of  truest  beauty  wear, 
And  read  the  record  years  do  not  erase. 
Not  seeking  what  the  Unseen  Power  shall  trace, 
As  thou  for  ministry  of  life  hast  care, 
Sublimely  sure  no  failure  can  impair 
The  angel  message,  or  its  worth  efface. 

And  when  the  hour  at  Cana  comes  to  thee, 
Refulgent  in  its  star-crowned  majesty, 
So  gentle  is  thy  softly  whispered  prayer, 
Thy  Son  alone  can  all  its  import  bear, 
Revealing  unto  Him  the  woman's  soul 
Christ-like  in  its  compassionate  control. 


FORGIVENESS 

eye  of  sense  a  vision  unsurpassed, 
A  beauty  filling  earth  and  sky  and  air ; 
The  glory  of  the  summer  everywhere, 
Flood,  forest,  field,  and  flower,  in  splendor  massed  ; 
Within,  a  gift  whose  blessings  must  outlast 
All  earthly  scenes ;  a  bond  of  love  so  rare 
It  could  alone  make  barren  places  fair, 
Keep  clear  the  skies  though  darkest  hour  o'ercast. 

And  yet  in  presence  of  all  this  to-day, 
I  feel  and  know  an  agony  and  pain 

Akin  to  hell.     'Twas  here  I  wronged  a  soul. 
Can  all  the  beauty  of  the  world  unsay 
The  word  that  stings  like  scorpions  now,  or  gain 
From  lips  of  dead  the  peace  that  maketh  whole? 

LINCOLN 
'He  had  no  poetry  in  him.' 

Recent  newspaper  item. 

T-JOW  dull  must  be  the  heart  that  so  believes 

Of  thee,  who  kept  unsoiled  the  Poet's  heart, 
Until  to  deeds  thou  didst  its  words  impart, 
Though  with  unconscious  strength  it  naught  per- 
ceives 
Of  all  that  it  in  silence  thus  receives, 

Yet  sends  it  into  life  like  lightning  dart, 
Still  bidding  its  divinest  rhythm  start 
When  it  some  nobler  cause  of  Justice  pleads. 

Sublimely  tuned,  and  answering  chord  for  chord, 
In  that  great  melody  that  moves  the  eaith 

To  all  that  is  by  lofty  soul  adored, 
Proving  best  title  to  the  larger  birth. 

Great  Thinker  !  who  from  deepest  music  brought 

The  Poet's  deed,  the  Man's  immortal  thought. 


123 


LOVE'S  GIFT 

g  ELOVED,  thou  hast  led  me  to  Love's  height, 
And  shown  me  all  the  worlds  his  heart  con- 
trols, 

The  breathless  wonder  of  His  touch  on  souls, 
The  fresh  Apocalypse  that  is  His  right; 
The  dawn  that  follows  upon  starless  night 
To  longing  eyes  no  sight  so  blest  unfolds, 
For  thy  gift  in  its  very  being  holds 
The  prayer-sought  land  where  God  Himself  is  light. 

Yet  high  above  this  gift  I  value  this, 

That  thou  hast  been  its  bearer  unto    me, 

The  God-Light  has  the  truer,  firmer  sway, 
Imparts  more  fulness  of  unfailing  bliss 
In  that  within  its  rays  I  dwell  with  thee, 
And  share  the  greater  splendor  of  its  way. 

TO  SHAKESPEARE'S  MOTHER 

AT  strong,  august  appeal  did  thy  son  hean 

When  'neath  thy  heart  his  own  throbbed 

peacefully; 

Or  what  proud  vision  could'st  thou  bid  him  see, 
What  flame-winged  message  carry  to  his  ear? 
Did  God  Himself  to  the  unborn  appear 

And  whisper  even  then  to  him,  through  thee, 
Teaching  thy  heart  thy  child's  sublimity, 
While  angels  sang  'Earth's  Poet  and  Earth's  Seer'? 

Or  was  thy  thought  so  full  of  coming  joy 

That,  passion  crowned,  it  held  thee  in  its  sway, 

And  poured  the  bliss  of  Heaven  without  alloy, 
And  led  thee  to  the  courts  where  angels  pray, 

Till   there   the    King  of  kings  looked  down  and 
smiled, 

And  thus  placed  His  own  seal  upon  thy  child? 

124 


ANTIGONE 

\\fHAT  lofty  purpose  held  thee,  holy  maid, 

Thou  signal  witness  of  ennobling  thought, 
What  mighty  semblance  of  the  Godhead  wrought 

Its  way  into  thy  heart,  and  on  it  laid 

Such  tribute  to  itself  as  few  have  paid? 
Can  such  self-sacrifice  as  thine  be  taught, 
Or  does  it  still  elude  if  it  be  sought, 

Keeping  itself  in  unseen  garb  arrayed? 

Ah,  faithful  woman's  heart!  it  is  with  thee 
In  every  place  this  garb  of  light  to  wear, 
Though  only  one  has  found  the  Poet  rare 

Who  can  interpret  well  its  majesty. 

Yet,  thought  sublime  !  that  one  thus  glorified 

Proves  e'en  the  lowliest  unto  her  allied 


CLEOPATRA 


A 


SPIRIT  of  life  made  but  to  hold  the  eye, 
The  asp  in  lips  unseen  by  lustful  heart ; 
Of  all  the  "sensuous  infinite"  a  part. 
The  dull  world  in  its  absence  is  a  sty 
To  him  who  in  its  waiting  arms  would  die. 
Its  costly  festival  hath  power  to  start 
The  passion  ending  in  envenomed  dart ; 
Its  glittering  fabric  woven  from  a  lie. 

With  her  sits  Pleasure,  throned  as  a  queen, 

Men  move  before  her  with  fresh  roses  crowned, 
Their  bodies  dancing  to  lascivious  sound. 

When   lo !     Day   brings   one    swift   transforming 
scene ; 

Armed  are  they  now,  and  with  expiring  breath, 

Salute  their  mistress  in  the  name  of  Death. 


'2$ 


VIRGILIA   AWAITING   CORIOLANUS 
ERE  antique  windows  win  the  rising  sun 
With  chastened  ray,  that  lingers  as  it  falls, 
Listening  perchance  to  chorus  that  enthralls. 
Music  with  music  from  the  silence  won, 
She  sits,  whose  thoughts  and  hopes  outrun 

All  suns ;  whose  presence  within  household  walls 
Like  holy  thought  the  place  of  prayer  recalls, 
Or  some  new  glory  in  the  soul  begun. 

Silent  she  is,  waiting  her  lord  with  light 

That  never  fades,  — the  love-lit  patience  of  her 

eyes 

Should  in  this  hour  draw  angels  from  the  skies  ! 
Did  he  forget  this  in  his  starless  night  ? 
Nay  !     Rather  when  the  sword-thrust  laid  him  low 
His  great  heart  broke  remembering  her  woe. 

OTHELLO 
CO  much  was  thine  at  last,  O  noble  Moor, 

So  rich  the  gift  thy  sword  of  anguish  won, 
In  that  brief  hour  when  all  life  seemed  undone, 
When  Honor's  self  was  strained  and  insecure, 
Love's  inner  shrine  deflowered  and  impure, 
When  passion  honest  counsel  could  outrun, 
And  heedless  folly  knew  not  how  to  shun 
The  fatal  voice  that  could  to  hell  allure ! 

For  one  brief  moment  is  the  rescue  found, 
The  Faith  assailed  is  clarified  at  last, 

(The  dead  so  near,  perchance,  may  share  its 

bliss) 

And  though  so  fleeting  all  its  swift  rebound, 
But  one  small  gleam,  it  brings  the  living  past, 
And  thou  canst  die,  with  love,  upon  a  kiss. 

126 


THE  SERAPH'S  SONG 

At  the  birth  of  Shakespeare. 

O  EARTH!  a  son  to  thee  is  born,  thine  own, 
Thine  own  forever,  and  forever  dear; 
To  him  shall  heart  of  every  man  appear 
As  though  he  made  it;  yea,  and  all  earth's  moan, 
The  mournful  sounding  of  its  undertone, 
He  shall  repeat  in  living  cadence  clear, 
Unbar  the  gates  of  death,  and  without  fear 
Bid  dead  awake  to  make  them  better  known; 

See  life  in  its  supremest  good  and  ill, 

Know  joy,  and  all  the  mystery  that  still 

Unanswered  spins  its  subtle  web,  and  leaves 

To  other  times  the  garnering  of  sheaves; 

See  the  majestic  glory  of  the  soul, 

And  prove  the  crowning  splendor  of  the  whole. 

HAMLET 

QOMETHING,  O  Hamlet,  of  thy  sad  unrest 

Is  found  deep  hidden  in  each  human  heart. 
Heedful  or  heedless  of  some  ghost's  behest, 

Each  soul  must  struggle  on,  alone,  apart. 
One  faithful  friend,  Horatio-like,  may  yearn 

To  walk  beside,  to  comfort,  to  sustain. 
Alas  I  alas  !  how  early  we  discern 

No  human  power  can  help  our  doubt  or  pain. 

Alone  each  walks,  though  all  the  world  be  near, 
The  fawning  Guildensterns  on  every  hand; 

Ophelias  proving  but  an  added  fear; 

Alone  we  hear  life's  gravely  stern  command; 

While  still  across  one  dark  and  soundless  sea 

We  hear  the  awesome  voice,  *  Remember  me  ! ' 


127 


BRUTUS  BEFORE  LUCIUS 

(In  Julius  Casar) 

A    YOUTH  at  rest!     The  pressure  of  the  night 
On  beating  heart,  on  weary  lids  and  brain, 
The  silent  instrument,  the  broken  strain, 
The  ghost  of  Caesar  passing  into  sight. 
The  wakeful  master,  tender  in  his  might, 

Will  not  disturb  where  sleep  her  hand  hath  lain, 
Though  the  same  hand  in  strength  will  not  re- 
frain 
The  dagger's  plunge,  when  used  to  serve  the  Right. 

O  noble  soul,  to  whom  all  men  were  true, 

Whom    Portia   loved    and    in   whom  thou  wert 
strong, 

Philippi  brought  its  own  defeat  to  you, 

Yet  nature  sings  for  thee  the  victor's  song: 

In  its  fine  strain  no  note  brings  deeper  joy 

Than  thy  respect  for  one  fair  sleeping  boy. 

FALSTAFF 

look  upon  Olympus,  crowned  with  mirth, 
Hear  bacchanalian  revellers  laugh  aloud, 
Beholding  mortals  with  their  life  endowed, 
A  demi-god  whom  some  unlooked-for  birth 
Burdened  with  flesh  and  blood  and  placed  on  earth; 
They  whisper  Jove  the  mystery  allowed 
When  nymph  of  Laughter  to  Apollo  bowed, 
Since  when  her  happy  music  knows  no  dearth. 

Not  less  have  we  the  man's  infirmities, 
But  when  the  "  follies  "  can  no  longer  please, 
Honor,  not  "nothingness,"  will  re-create 
The  heart  now  "fracted  and  corroborate ;" 
In  dying,  find  the  old  remembered  balm, 
The  broken  sentence  of  the  favorite  psalm. 

128 


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